


An Empire in Ruin

by ravendas



Series: Crimson and Ebony [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Loss, Loss of Limbs, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebuilding, Sith Empire, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendas/pseuds/ravendas
Summary: Knights of the Fallen Empire/Eternal Throne AUDarth Hyperia, former Wrath of the Emperor, is forced to stay behind on Dromund Kaas while Darth Marr sends his fleet to Wild Space to hunt down the former Sith Emperor. When the unthinkable happens and the Empire is conquered by an impossibly-powerful enemy, she must find the strength to keep it alive and free it from the chains of the Eternal Empire.
Relationships: Malavai Quinn/Female Sith Warrior
Series: Crimson and Ebony [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/782706
Comments: 55
Kudos: 23





	1. Prelude to War

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that popped into my brain one morning. I've always had this background notion of pondering what it was like on the "other side" of the KotFE/ET story if, instead of Darth Acina, the Sith Warrior became the new Empress of the Sith. After binge-watching The Expanse and getting a feel for writing politics and battle strategy meetings, I figured I'd give it a shot myself. I'm not sure how often this will get updated. Pretty much as the mood takes me in between trying to write for my two main longfics. But, I'm hoping this will help with the inspiration for my other adventures of Hyperia and Quinn in "Scarlet and NIghtshade".
> 
> Anyway...enjoy!

_“You must stay here, Wrath.”_

_“Do you honestly think that I’m just going to sit here and watch while you chase down the Emperor who betrayed me…the Empire?! And stop calling me ‘Wrath’…the title is meaningless now.”_

_“Be that as it may, we do not know if he still has any sort of hold over you. We cannot take the chance that he could use you against us. If we should fall against Him, it will be your duty…as the Empire’s Wrath…to avenge us and protect the Empire. In case you have not noticed, the Dark Council’s numbers are all too thin. Your former Master’s seat is vacant…as are many others. You will need to keep the Imperials in line and ensure the best interests of the Sith are maintained.”_

Her conversation with Darth Marr repeated endlessly in her head as Hyperia, former Wrath of the Emperor, paced restlessly before the tactical display dominating the Imperial war room. The vast space was populated by select Sith Lords, various Moffs and Generals, and their aides. Hyperia felt the comforting presence of Quinn, now wearing the uniform and rank of Major, standing stoically behind her, seemingly unperturbed by the weight of rank surrounding him.

After their wedding and her elevation to the Dark Council, Hyperia had planned to promote him to a more suitable rank for his new station as her consort and right hand. But, he had declined the honor, stating that he wished to earn his rank honestly, not solely through the benefit of his ties to her. Initially, she had been offended, but respected his wishes all the same and placed his application for Major…which was approved with an uncanny swiftness by Imperial High Command.

“My Lords, we’re receiving a feed from Darth Marr’s flagship.” The voice of General Idoen piped up, an almost-undetectable tremor beneath his crisp military bearing. With a gesture, he sent the feed to the main holo-array and chaos filled the silence of the room.

“Imperial Command, this is Lieutenant Gran of the Flagship Dominator, we are under attack by unknown forces.” The image shook and burst into static for a brief moment as explosions bloomed in the background. A klaxon wailed, the Lieutenant’s features washed in the crimson lighting strobing around him. “The fleet…hundreds of ships…unknown design. Boarders have taken the ship…strange droids…can’t hold out. Escape pods…under order of Darth Marr…all systems failing. Sending all tactical data and logs…for the Empi—“

The feed cut out in a burst of white light, leaving the war room shrouded in a pall of silence. Hyperia was the first to speak, “Bring up tactical.”

As the display shifted to show the battle layout, it expanded out…and again…and again. A chorus of breaths sucked in and murmurs of shock and despair broke the silence as the holo-array displayed Marr’s fleet as a tiny group of pinpoints in the center of the sphere, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of strange geometric ships.

“Go back to the beginning”, Grand Moff Regus snapped and the display shifted to zoom in on the seven ships of the joint Republic-Imperial expedition. A few seconds later, a tiny pinpoint darted across the starfield, garbled readings scrolling past to briefly solidify as “Possible probe, unknown origin”. The instant the probe disappeared from sensor range, the ships of the strange fleet winked into existence in perfect formations surrounding the fleet. Laser streaks of blue, red and green darted between the ships, but Marr’s tiny fleet was heavily outmatched and, one by one, the ships exploded in brilliant orbs of plasma fire. Several escape pods streamed out from all directions, some smashing into the debris littering the battlefield, while others were able to escape to parts unknown.

A few minutes later, the entire enemy fleet warped back into hyperdrive and disappeared before the display flickered into blackness. Silence reigned throughout the room for several long seconds until Lord Rangor spoke up, his voice raspy through the ventilator he wore over his heavily-scarred visage.

“Those are the same ships that invaded Korriban.” He would have known, for he had been there and earned the scars in battle against their unknown attackers. “They use battle droids as their main ground units and their people wield the Force in ways I have never seen before.”

Regus nodded, “That matches up with the Lieutenant’s report. But it still raises the questions of what they are after and if that fleet is under the command of our former Emperor.”

“They are testing us”, Quinn stepped forward, his fingers dancing upon the controls to the holo-array. A map of the Sith Empire bloomed into view, then rotated to zoom into the border near the area deemed “Wild Space”. “They made a preemptive attack on our outpost here”, a planet on the edge of Wild Space was marked with a red icon, “then attacked Korriban”, a line traced through the galaxy to stop at the home to the Sith Academy. “We heard nothing from them until now. Darth Marr sends a fleet to Wild Space”, a glowing icon pinpointed the last known location of the decimated fleet, “and is destroyed.”

As the rest of the gathered military minds studied the display, Quinn continued, “They were testing our defenses to see what we are capable of…how we will react…moving to larger and more important targets each time. I predict that they will be coming for Dromund Kaas very soon.”

Murmurs circulated throughout the room, then General Idoen’s voice called out to a thin, balding man in the distinctive black uniform of Imperial Intelligence, “Keeper, has there been any word about this from the Republic?”

“Yes”, he spoke quietly, but with gravity, “I have received reports that there have been raids on several of their border outposts as well as an incursion on Tython, their Jedi training facility.”

Hyperia once more took up pacing the floor, brows creased in thought, “So they’re not just targeting the Empire, but the Republic as well. If they’re Force-users, they would want to test our own…so they invade our training grounds. They've tested our ground troops, our ships, and our Force-users. I believe the Major is correct and that the next logical step is a full-scale invasion.”

“But who will they hit first?” Ideon queried.

Moff Regus fixed him with a steady stare, “Considering the number of ships and firepower we’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of a simultaneous strike on both sides.”

“How”, Lord Rangor rasped, punctuating his words with a raised fist, “could a fleet…an empire…that size go unnoticed for so long?”

Once more Quinn pulled up the galaxy map, “From what we can tell, my Lord, they are coming from deep within Wild Space. No one has ever ventured out into that region before.”

“And they’ve just been content to sit back and let us be until now? What changed?”

Then answer was so obvious, even so, Hyperia hated giving it voice, “The Emperor. Somehow He’s tied to these people…this fleet. I don’t know how, but Marr said that after the destruction of Ziost, He fled into Wild Space. It was soon after that when the incursions along the border began.”

Regus frowned, fingers idly stroking the salt-and-pepper goatee on his chin, “So, is He commanding this fleet somehow? Was this all some sort of elaborate plan of His or did He just happen upon this fleet and decide to turn it against the rest of the galaxy?”

Hyperia sighed, wearily rubbing the bridge of her nose. Military strategy and tactics were not her strong suit. She had always had Quinn for that. During their time together, she had learned much from him, but it barely scratched the surface of his own knowledge and experience. “There is really no way of knowing that right now and, to be honest, not important. We need to prepare to repel a potential full-scale invasion. Send out word to all of our forward outposts and prepare the fleet.” Sweeping her gaze over the assembled group, she radiated a confidence that she did not entirely feel, “You all know your jobs. We must ensure the Empire survives, no matter what it takes.”

With that, she turned and strode from the room, Quinn in tow. Neither spoke a word until she gave their destination to the droid piloting the VIP speeder that had been assigned to her.

Quinn cut a glance to her, one brow raised, “My Lord, should we not…?”

She cut him off with a gesture, “If the Empire is going to possibly end tomorrow, I at least want a stiff drink and the company of my husband before it does.”

“Of course, my Lord”, a faint hint of a smile ghosted over his lips as the speeder took them through the dark clouds surrounding Kaas City towards the secluded sanctuary they called home.


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and Quinn slip away to enjoy what little time is left to them before the invasion begins, and the Dark Council meets to plan their strategy.

“Too-Vee, drinks…bring them to the main chamber!” Hyperia called out as she swept in from the rain-tossed landing pad, Quinn following closely behind.

The droid took their drenched overcoats and bowed with a “Yes, Master, right away!” before scurrying off to do her bidding.

Hyperia felt a weight lift off of her chest as soon as they entered the secluded dwelling that had once belonged to Quinn’s family. His sister had given it to him back when Hyperia was still Baras’ loyal apprentice and he, in turn, had offered it up to be their private home after they were married. She always felt at peace here, no matter what awaited her outside its walls. That peace did not come so easily this night, however. The sense of foreboding from seeing Marr’s fleet annihilated still remained a constant companion.

Even Quinn remained at a heightened state of alert, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, analyzing the situation. Pushing her own anxiety aside, she reached out to caress his cheek. “I know it’s difficult, but try not to think about it…if only for a short while.”

He leaned gratefully into her touch, “You know I cannot, so many things need to…” He trailed off as her golden eyes narrowed, “But, for you, I will try.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile as she slid her fingers through his hair, “I know. One of the many reasons I love you is your sharp, clever mind that never stops thinking.” Her fingers slid down his chest to wrap around the braid of rank upon his uniform and used it to tug him towards the bedroom, a wicked gleam in her eyes, “But perhaps I can find something more pleasant to turn your thoughts to.”

Quinn rarely smiled, but when he did, it lifted what burden was left hanging over her, “I look forward to seeing what that is, my Lor—love.”

Hyperia laughed at the slip. They had been married for almost three years and yet Quinn still had a difficult time transitioning from being a Sith Lord’s servant to husband, even in private. Pulling him to her for a deep kiss, she reveled in his presence. She had a sinking feeling there would few moments like this in the future. Breathlessly parting, she resumed her path to their chambers, gently pulling him along behind her. “Oh, I’m sure you do….”

\--------------------------------

Several hours later, they lay breathless and content, sheets of fine linen draped loosely over their entwined forms. Hyperia snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comforting embrace of his arms. It almost reminded her of the first time they had made love all those years ago above Nar Shaddaa: slow, intense explorations that carried on through the night. Just when they thought they were spent, a mere touch or look would spark their passions again.

Even now, Hyperia could feel him stirring as she stretched languidly against him, his fingers sliding through her hair as the rain pattered against the glass windows overlooking the city. “We should really try to get some sleep”, he murmured reluctantly, attempting to fight back the arousal she always engendered in him.

“Are you sure about tha—“, she began teasingly before her eyes suddenly snapped open wide.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn attempted to reach out through their shared bond she had established with him on the day of their marriage, but it abruptly slammed shut a spilt-second before she started screaming.

Her body shook as though caught in the throes of a seizure, her eyes rolled back in her head, breath coming in quick, heaving gasps, fingers splayed as though warding off something. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the convulsions stopped, her body sagging limply in his arms. Panic gripped Quinn in a titanium hold until her eyes fluttered open once more, her lungs dragging in a deep breath.

Before he could ask what had happened, she sat bolt upright, eyes darting about wildly before finally coming to meet his. She seemed to slowly come back to herself, though there was still dread within her gaze.

“I need to contact the Dark Council.” Without another word, she pushed from the bed and strode to the wardrobe, selecting a set of her more formal armor. Turning, she seemed to notice him for the first time…still sitting in bed, worry written across his face. “Darth Marr is dead. Killed by our former Emperor. It is as we suspected: he is behind this new power in the galaxy.”

As she began getting dressed, Quinn pushed from the bed, the worry replaced by his usual stoic alertness, “What do you need me to do?”

An introspective frown curved her lips as she adjusted the cortosis shoulder plates on her deep crimson-and-black robes, “What you do best, of course: go coordinate with Sith Intelligence. Tell them what we know and make sure they have eyes and ears in every corner of the Empire. We do not know where the Emperor’s fleet will strike first.”

“Of course”, he replied, donning a fresh uniform. As she finished pulling on thigh-high armored boots and rose, he took a moment to admire the powerful woman he called his wife. She looked ready to take on the galaxy herself and bend it to her will.

Catching his eye, she smiled, lightly tracing a gauntleted hand along his jaw. Tilting her head to rest her forehead against his, she opened the bond between them until he could feel the passion radiating from her like a hot desert breeze.“Whatever happens, I will always be with you. Never forget that.”

Quinn felt a sudden clench in his heart and poured his own devotion for her into the bond, “And I with you, my love.”

A brief melancholy smile tugged at her lips as she stepped away, then turned to make her way to the landing pad, Quinn’s eyes following her until she disappeared from sight.

\----------------------------------------

Hyperia stood in the center of the Dark Council chamber that had been hastily constructed after the destruction of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Twelve chairs, not nearly as impressive as the lesser thrones previously used, filled the room. Only four Councilors occupied the seats...Acina, Vowrawn, Nox, and Mortis…while Aruk and Ravage’s holo-figures flickered in their respective places. The other half of the twelve chairs were vacant. _So many dead that we have never bothered to replace_ , she mused. Technically, she could have claimed the seat that was once Baras’, but her position as the Emperor’s Wrath had placed her above and apart from the rest of the Council. Now, she was left in limbo…no longer the Wrath, but not considered one of the Council.

Sweeping away the cobwebs from her thoughts, she addressed the assembled Darths, “I’m sure that most of you know that Darth Marr is dead.”

A quiet murmur filtered around the room, a few heads nodding. “A tragedy”, Vowrawn muttered softly.

“What you may not know is how. The fleet he sent to hunt down our former Emperor was utterly decimated by the same forces that invaded Korriban…forces ruled by our former Emperor.” The murmurs grew louder around her, anger and disbelief swirling palpably. “Marr was captured by this new Empire and executed by the Emperor Himself.”

“How do you know all of this?” Darth Ravage spoke up through his hololink, eyes narrowed with skepticism. He had been one of Baras’ greatest supporters up until the moment she had killed her former master. It did not surprise her that he would be the one to introduce doubt into her words.

“I saw it through Marr’s eyes when he died. Before he departed, he named me the Empire’s Wrath and bade me bring vengeance upon our former Emperor should he fail. I assume he needed me to see his last moments in order to truly know what we are facing.” Turning to the holocomm controls, she activated the display in the center of the room, the battle replaying before the curious eyes of the Council.

All sat stock still as the battle played out, with the exception of Darth Acina, who stood and circled the display, carefully studying the alien ships. Hyperia was not surprised…Acina was the Councilor over the Sphere of Technology and the ships were a completely unfamiliar design.

“Incredible”, she murmured, lifting a hand to trace the perfectly symmetrical formations of the enemy ships. “Such precision. I’ve never seen anything like it. They must be linked somehow….” Feeling the eyes of the other Councilors upon her, she trailed off, turning to Hyperia, “I would like to study them more in-depth.”

“Of course”, Hyperia replied. “Any weakness you can find…any edge in battle we can get would be helpful. As it is, I am unsure if we can stand up against a fleet of that size.”

Vowrawn coughed softly, “I will contact our shipyards and ensure that production is stepped up. We need to be able to field as many ships against them as we can. It would also be advisable to bulk up our emergency stockpiles in case of a protracted conflict. All of the ships in the galaxy will do us no good if we all starve to death or run out of ammunition.” The elderly Sith’s bantering tone might have taken any other by surprise, but Hyperia was used to his cavalier manner.

Turning to the Miraluka lounging casually in her chair, Hyperia quirked a brow. It was impossible to tell if Darth Nox was even awake behind the thin black metal blindfold she wore over empty eye sockets. It was rumored that the woman housed several Sith ghosts within her mind…and that she was utterly insane.

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me, Wrath?”, the woman purred, a feral grin slashing lips painted a deep purple.

_Not asleep then_ , Hyperia mused. She had to handle this one carefully. “Perhaps you could see if your people can dredge up anything about the origin of these ships…or if there’s any record of what might lie deep in Wild Space.”

Nox sat up a bit straighter in her chair, almost visibly chewing on this information with enthusiasm. She was the Councilor over Ancient Knowledge, so digging through old tomes and relics was what she loved best. For a moment, she canted her head as though listening before shrugging expressively, “No help from these guys”, one gloved finger tapped the gold and silver skullcap covering her hair. “But, I’ll see what I can find.”

“Remind us again why it is that you’re giving the orders”, Darth Mortis snapped irritably.

Hyperia turned, a smirk upon her lips, “Because the rest of you aren’t?” Gesturing expansively to encompass the six Dark Lords assembled, she pinned him with a steady gaze, “If any of you would like to take charge, please feel free to do so. The Empire is on the verge of possible eradication, I do not have the desire or the time to squabble over petty ambitions.”

Her challenge was met with only silence. _Of course, no one wants to be the one who will take the fall if we are defeated._ “Very well, if there’s nothi—“

Her holocomm suddenly began chiming urgently. Quinn’s voice met her on the other end, an uncharacteristic panic in his tone, “My Lord, my apologies for interrupting but I have very urgent news. We have received word that our shipyards are under attack by the Emperor’s fleet.”

Vowrawn spoke up, leaning slightly forward in his seat, “Which ones?”

There was a long pause before Quinn’s reply, dread in his tone, “All of them, my Lord.”


	3. The Fall of an Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eternal Empire clashes with the Sith Empire. Only one will prevail and Hyperia must make the choice between pride and survival.

The war room was a picture of organized chaos. After the destruction of the Empire’s major shipyards, Imperial Intelligence opened one of their largest ready rooms for the use of the main players involved in the defense against the Eternal Empire. Every terminal was alight with data readouts, every person present working on one problem or another.

Darth Acina stood at a small holodisplay, replaying segments of several different battles, her lips curved in a frown, eyes darting between the display and various readouts scrolling beside it. Occasionally, one of the two Imperial Generals flanking her would tap something into their handheld datapads and compare notes.

The Minister of Sith Intelligence, Lana Beniko, studied a map of the galaxy, crimson icons scattered across its expanse. Quinn conversed quietly with her, comparing analyses as the Minders fed raw data into the system.

Hyperia took two mugs of caf from a side table that had been set up. No one in the room had slept more than a couple of hours each day over the past several weeks, but the energy never abated. It couldn’t afford to. The Eternal Empire had swarmed through their shipyards and trade centers and were now engaged in what looked like hit-and-run tactics against their trade routes.

As of that moment, no one was completely sure of the total fleet size due to its stealth abilities. Was the fleet jumping to each hyperspace lane or were there multiple fleets all stealthed and lying in wait along each one?

Acina and her team of technicians and military minds had managed to discover very few weaknesses in the fleet. They were fast, possessed stealth capabilities, and an array of advanced weaponry. The only Imperial ships able to outrun them were the few that had managed to be fitted with Isotope-5 before that project had come to a halt.

“Those are our best warships and should be the last ones _fleeing_ from the enemy!” Moff Regus had huffed in annoyance.

Unfortunately, there was little else they could do. Even if they could manage to gather the entire Imperial fleet in one place, they would still be grossly outnumbered and outgunned by the enemy ships.

“And they are attacking the Republic at the same time?!” Darth Vowrawn had queried in amazement when the intel had come through.

Lana had been the one to break that particular news, her contact in the Republic Strategic Information Service had been surprisingly forthcoming. “Yes, they are just as pinned down as we are. Not that it would matter”, she mused with a faint bitterness, “It’s not as though we could expect the Republic to swoop in and rescue us.”

She paused for a moment, as Quinn glanced at a readout he had pulled up on his datapad and quietly spoke up, “Ironically, my Lords, it is taking longer for them to carve through the Republic. I would assume that is due to the fact that it is our former Emperor leading it. He knows the location of all of our bases, our tactics, our strength, and capabilities.”

The blonde-haired Sith released a faint sigh, “I’m honestly surprised it’s taking this long. Either He’s toying with us, or splitting his forces between us and the Republic is slowing Him down.”

Hyperia circled around the table, taking in the data constantly updating on the map, and paused next to Quinn, allowing her fingers to brush briefly against his as she passed him one of the cups of caf. Everything had been in such chaos since the destruction of the shipyards, they had barely any contact with one another aside from exchanging information when needed or sharing quick glances across the war room. He did not break military bearing, but there was a softening in his red-rimmed blue eyes as he afforded her a quick nod of gratitude. She allowed herself a tired smile in return before turning her attention back to the readouts.

“What are the Mandalorians doing?” Regus enquired.

Lana turned her attention to the Grand Moff, “They are more flexible and agile than our fleets, so they have been engaging the enemy fleets in hit-and-run skirmishes where they can. There are not enough of them to make a real difference, but they have managed to whittle the enemy numbers down somewhat.”

Suddenly half of the red markers disappeared from the display. “What the--?” Before she could utter another word, klaxons began blaring through the complex, the lights shifting to scarlet.

One of the Minders called out from his terminal, his voice pitched with panic, “We have multiple enemy contacts in orbit! Planetary defense systems online!”

As he spoke, the thundering sound of the massive anti-starship rail guns echoed through the walls. Hyperia exchanged a glance with Quinn and didn’t even bother with protocol or decorum as she took his hand in hers and squeezed. His fingers tightened as the ground shook from the impact of the enemy ships’ return bombardment.

Fighting back the dread that threatened to overwhelm her, she reluctantly released Quinn’s hand and turned to address the room. “We knew this day was coming! We have done all that we could to defend the Empire up to this point and we will not stop! We may not win this fight, but the Sith Empire will survive! Whatever it takes, we will not fall!”

A cheer rose up around her, her words stirring all assembled into action, despite their exhaustion. “For the Empire!”, Quinn called out and the chant swelled through the ranks until it almost drowned out the cannon fire outside.

Suddenly a series of explosions that rocked the ground beneath their feet replaced the cannon fire. “My Lord!”, one of the other Minders cried out, “Artillery emplacements 3, 4, 6, 9, and 10 are destroyed! They are landing troop shuttles in the city center!”

Hyperia took a deep breath, a feral gleam in her eyes, “Well, let’s go out and greet them, shall we?”

What was once a cheer became a roar as Sith and Imperial soldiers charged towards the door. Hyperia paused to rest a hand on Quinn’s chest, “Stay here….”

Before she could get off another word, he fixed her with a steady glare, his fingers wrapping around hers. “With due respect, my Lord…no. Whatever happens…if we live or die…I will do so at your side.”

She held his gaze for a long second, then shook her head, lips curling into a smile, “Damn, I love you so much.” Uncaring of any curious eyes that might have been watching, she took him in her arms and kissed him passionately, “Very well, we do this together…as we always have.”

\------------------------------

Outside, all was pandemonium, a cacophony of blaster fire, explosions, and screams. Armor-clad droids swarmed over the city, killing indiscriminately, while Sith clashed with gold-plated Knights wielding saber pikes, their weapons blurring into streaks of azure and crimson in the damp night air.

The roar of engines cut through the sounds of battle as five shuttles hovered just above, disgorging dozens of the pike-wielding Knights as well as a single unarmored man clad in a simple tunic and pants of ivory and gold, his left arm a cybernetic prosthetic of black metal, and a mask of the same metal covering the left side of his face. Hyperia narrowed her gaze, studying the man as she reached out with the Force. It was nigh-impossible to distinguish anything with so many Force-users in combat, but he stood out.

_Not the Emperor, but very powerful, and…he bears His mark somehow. Subtle, but it’s there, like a taint in the blood._

The man’s head snapped to her, apparently having felt her curious probing. For a moment he seemed to study her just as intently, then the one visible eye narrowed as he strode through his knights who were already engaging what was left of their defense.

Igniting her twin sabers, she called out, “Where is the Emperor?”

The man chuckled low and deep, his voice a rich timbre, “You mean my father? You needn't worry about him, he is dead. I am Arcann, the new Eternal Emperor of Zakuul and the only one you need to be concerned with.”

As he spoke, he ignited his own saber, its blade a pulsing white-gold, and lunged at her. Her sabers crossed to catch his, but the force of his attack drove her back, her feet sliding on the wet durasteel. Using the motion as momentum, she spun, batting his saber back in a flurry of quick attacks. But he was relentless, countering every attack almost too quickly for her to react. It was taking every ounce of strength she still had just to keep him at bay, let alone attempt her own retaliation. The long days spent constantly on edge had taken their toll on everyone, even her.

She did, however, find a measure of comfort hearing Quinn’s blaster still firing behind her, keeping any other attackers at bay. Knowing he had her back gave her a small burst of confidence, a snarl upon her lips as she renewed her attack on her former Emperor’s son. However, he batted her sabers as though they were toys with an idle flick of his wrist, sending one spiraling out of her hand to bounce against the railing and disappear into the misty void. She barely had time to react, gripping the remaining saber with both hands, as he closed the distance between them, savagely beating his own saber against hers until he had driven her to her knees.

“Surrender!” He yelled, the shout cut short as a baster bolt ricocheted off of his cybernetic arm. Both his and Hyperia’s eyes darted to Quinn, his pistol held in both hands, a determined set to his jaw. Hyperia managed to return her attention to Arcann just in time to see a crackling violet glow building in his palm.

“No!” As she screamed, time seemed to slow…her hand lifting to send a ripple of Force at Arcann's…lightning surging out, then upward…Quinn’s agonized scream…the sound of his body hitting the metal decking. Hyperia lunged forward, only to be tossed back to crumple beside Quinn’s smoldering form.

Allowing herself a quick glance at her fallen husband, a small surge of hope bloomed as she noticed his chest still rose and fell in shallow breaths. She had little time to rejoice over this fact as the humming glow of a lightsaber hovered at her neck.

“This is so pointless,” Arcann muttered in disgust, then turned his head, amplifying his voice through his mask so that it carried over the remnants of the battle. “Enough!”

An eerie hush swept over the city, all heads turned upward to take in the scene: the Sith Empire's Wrath upon her knees before the conquering Emperor. Turning back to Hyperia, his voice still amplified, Arcann growled, “You have two choices: surrender to the Eternal Empire of Zakuul or watch every one of your planets burn to ashes and ruin.”

It felt as though a great weight was crushing her chest and she couldn’t help but silently laugh at the irony of it all: she had finally risen to lead the Sith Empire, only to watch it fall. Once more, she turned her gaze to Quinn, still unconscious, the left half of his body burnt by Arcann’s lightning, and recalled something that he had said to her what had seemed like an eternity ago:

_“You always go into a battle to survive, not to win. There is no other option…no ‘honorable’ death or glory of taking your opponent with you. The only one who wins a battle is the one who survives.”_

_We may have lost this battle, my love, but we will survive._

Lifting her gaze to Arcann, her voice tight and holding back the rage she felt but refused to show, she glared straight into his single golden eye and spat, “We surrender.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter? All of the tension, the hopeless odds, the despair...I can't get enough of it! I wanted it to have a feel similar to the Battle of Haven in Dragon Age: Inquisition (the soundtrack to that particular part was a big part of the background music that inspired this) where the protag is up against insurmountable odds, they know it, but they still keep fighting because of everything that's at stake. Though, in the end, they are forced to admit defeat and must crawl away to lick their wounds.  
> Sorry to anyone who's waiting on me to write more in my other fics because this one has me by the scruff of the neck and isn't letting go any time soon.


	4. From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having surrendered to the Eternal Empire, Hyperia must put her worry for Quinn's condition aside and find a way to renew the people of Dromund Kaas' faith in their own Empire.

“We surrender.”

Out of everything she had been through in her life: near-death during the destruction of the Jedi Temple, the harshness of Sith training, the betrayal by her own Master, then by the man she loved…none of those were as painful and difficult to endure as speaking those two simple words.

The Sith Empire had placed its fate in her hands and she had failed. The city lay in burning ruins, her husband near death. Everything was falling apart and now she had to find a way to put it all back together again.

The so-called Eternal Emperor, Arcann, had given her little thought after her surrender, only ordering her to send a representative to receive their terms of conquest when summoned. He had then departed, taking the majority of his troops with him, leaving only a token force to ensure the conquered city formed no resistance.

“You remembered”, a breathless rasping of voice, though no less familiar to her, shook her from her reverie. Turning, she had to restrain a gasp as she took in Quinn’s condition.

The entire left side of his body from the thigh up was a charred, smoldering mass of burnt flesh and fabric. His arm had taken the brunt of the blast, his fingers rendered into black claws of melted synthleather and skin. Mercifully, the burns were less severe upon his face, but his cheek was pockmarked and a small swatch of hair was singed off, the flesh an angry red.

Pulling out her comm, Hyperia quickly put out a broadwave call, “I need a medic at the Sith Enclave, now!”

Then tucking it away, she reached out to take his unburnt hand in hers and carefully opened the bond between them. She barely stopped herself from screaming at the pain that surged through it, her fingers tightening around his. Slowing her breathing, she let the pain wash over her and through her, pulling it steadily from him.

Once she felt his own hand lightly squeezing hers, she allowed herself a smile, “Yes…I remembered. You taught me so much that day…helped me find myself again.”

Quinn winced from pain not physical, “Only to turn around and stab you in the back.”

“Shhh”, she whispered, pressing a light kiss to his fingers, “We’ve already crossed that bridge and burned it behind us. What you did was necessary…for both of us. The crucible that forged us into who we were meant to be.”

“A half-charred husk of a man and an Empress over a fallen Empire?”, he said with a faint touch of sarcasm before coughing weakly.

Hyperia couldn’t help but to burst into helpless laughter. Quinn’s bouts of humor were very rare, but she never could fail to appreciate them when they surfaced. “Stars, yes…I suppose so. Though I wouldn’t start hailing me as Empress just yet. I’m sure at least half of the Empire probably wants my head on a plate.”

“You won’t let them”, Quinn replied sleepily, his eyes beginning to flutter closed.

She gave his hand another urgent squeeze, panic beginning to flare in her chest, “No, I won’t. Stay with me, Malavai.”

The distinctive whine of a speeder at full thrust cut through the silence, followed by footsteps running towards them. A slender blonde-haired woman dressed in a white Imperial medic uniform quickly knelt beside them, running a scanner over Quinn’s unconscious form. “We need to get him into a kolto tank immediately”, the woman snapped, gesturing a pair of medical droids over with a hover-lift.

Reluctantly releasing his hand, Hyperia rose, gesturing off the droids with a flick of her hand as they prepared to move Quinn. “I can do that”, she snapped, gently using the Force to lift his body onto the stretcher.

The medic gave her a brief nod of thanks as the droids took the stretcher to the speeder. Hyperia locked golden eyes pulsing with the Dark Side onto the woman’s own brown ones, “He will live.” It was not phrased as a question.

She saw a shudder race over the woman, her eyes widening as she nodded emphatically, “Yes, my Lord, I swear it.”

Hyperia relaxed, releasing the medic from her gaze, “Go.” The woman scurried back to the speeder which lifted into the damp night air and disappeared into the city, taking most of Hyperia’s heart with it.

“He will be fine”, the quiet voice of Darth Vowrawn reassured her. She had not even heard nor felt him approach. The elder Sith looked worse for wear…his robes rumpled and torn, his pale orange eyes bloodshot and surrounded by a few more wrinkles that Hyperia could recall seeing before. But, there was still a faintly cheerful optimism about him. Something so rarely found in the Sith, especially considering their current circumstances.

Hyperia nodded as she felt his hand alight upon her shoulder, the gesture quite comforting, “I know.”

“I would tell you to get some sleep”, Vowrawn bantered playfully, “but I know you wouldn’t listen. So, let’s go take a walk, shall we?” Before she could protest, he was already guiding her towards one of the only speeders that hadn’t been destroyed in the attack: a slightly scratched-up Praxton Aero with a seat barely large enough for two people.

Sliding into the seat behind him, she wrapped her arms around the older Sith’s waist as he gunned the engine and took off towards the center of the city. Even though the journey lasted barely a minute, Hyperia had to fight from dozing off on his shoulder. All of the stress and worry was taking its toll, but she knew she still had so much to do before she could rest.

Apparently Vowrawn sensed her weariness and nudged her as he climbed from the speeder, “Nap time is over!”

Blinking, Hyperia let her gaze sweep over the ruined city as she stepped from the speeder. It reminded her of Ziost before the Emperor had annihilated every form of life on the planet: burning ruins choked in grey smoke and ash, the cries of the wounded and dying. Squads of Zakuulan skytroopers patrolled the city, alert for any signs of dissent. Even as she watched, they mercilessly gunned down a wounded Imperial who threw a piece of rubble at them, spitting curses that were swiftly silenced.

Vowrawn’s eyes followed hers across the vast courtyard dominating the center of the city and murmured quietly, “Be careful. The only person some of these people hate more than these Zakuulans is you.”

Slanting her eyes to him, her lips twisted in a smirk, “You were the one who said I should come down here.”

“Yes”, he replied, giving her another fatherly pat on the shoulder, “because you need to give them a reason not to.” With that, he turned to stride towards the square, beckoning her to follow.

The first person they encountered was a young man in a torn Imperial uniform. She recognized it as the basic garb of a lower-ranking enlisted functionary. He was sobbing openly over the body of another fallen man in a similar uniform. As they drew closer, Hyperia realized that the body was that of the man the skytroopers had shot.

As they approached, the crying man’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed with hate. “This is your fault!”, he snapped, one hand scrabbling in the broken duracrete until his fingers found a palm-sized chunk of rubble. Without any concern for the fact that he was facing two very powerful members of the Dark Council, he lobbed the rock at them.

Hyperia lifted a hand, shattering the projectile into dust with a small gesture, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and fatigue. “No, it is their fault”, she gestured towards the skytroopers, who had paused in their patrol to warily observe the trio, before dropping to one knee beside the fallen man. “But throwing rocks isn’t going to change anything…not at this point.”

Stretching out with the Force, she felt the tiniest flicker of consciousness deep within him. Laying a hand upon his chest, she sent a quick spark of energy into his body and, after a breathless second, his eyes snapped open, lungs dragging in a deep, rasping breath.

“Torvan!”, the young man cried out in unabashed relief, his tears of sorrow washed away by those of joy.

As the two men embraced, Hyperia once more put out a call for a medic before rising to her feet. Though this small interval of hope quickly evaporated as a familiar voice echoed across the square.

“Are you planning on trying to resurrect all of the dead here? Hoping that it will somehow erase your blatant cowardice?”

Hyperia and Vowrawn turned to see Darth Ravage striding towards them, his robes burnt and torn, his features twisted with fury.

Narrowing her eyes at the thin, pale Sith, she slowly approached him, fingers twitching above the hilt of the single saber she wore. Once far enough away from the noncombatants, she paused, staring him down with disgust, “What did you expect? That I should refuse and let Dromund Kaas be blasted into nothing? That I should have let everyone here die just to salvage some sense of stupid Sith pride?”

Ravage spat upon the ground, his own fingers hovering over his saber’s hilt, “You are an upstart, a reject of the Jedi who only pretends to understand what it is to be Sith.” His gaze swept over her, his lips curled in disgust, “You let your feelings for some Imperial lackey determine the fate of the entire Empire!”

Hyperia felt rage welling up, a burning inferno that would not be stoked, “He had nothing to do with my decision!”

“Oh?” Ravage countered sharply, “Had that Arcann killed him, you would have no doubt torn him apart with your bare hands, rather than bending the knee. Perhaps if he’d died, your rage would have been enough to save the Empire.”

Through grinding teeth, Hyperia hissed dangerously, “You do not want to keep having this conversation with me unless you wish to endure a very painful death.”

“You are pathetic and weak. Step aside and let a true Sith determine what is best for the Empire!”

Harsh laughter spilled from her lips, “You? Who is too blinded by his own petty ambitions…your stupid rivalries? You’re still stewing over the fact that I defeated Baras and destroyed your chance to play lapdog to a false Emperor.”

“Better him than you!” With a flick of his wrist, Ravage ignited his saber and advanced.

“You are a fool”, she spat in return, her own saber flaring to life in her hand as she slowly circled him, using her anger to push back the exhaustion.

His mouth twisted in an arrogant smirk, Ravage shuffled forward, testing her defenses with several rapid flicks of his saber.

With a roll of her eyes, she parried them easily, “Stop playing, Ravage. I’ve already wasted too much time on your ridiculous games.”

“As you wish”, with a sharp gesture, her body was flung back, tumbling upon the broken ground. Before she could regain her footing, he leapt, covering the distance, his saber arcing downward. She barely managed to raise her own in time, her arms aching with exhaustion and the effort of holding his blade away from her face. “You are weak”, he spat, leaning harder into the attack, his face inches from hers.

Gathering the strength of her rage, she pushed outward with the Force, this time hurtling his body across the rubble-strewn courtyard. Fury in her eyes, she strode to where he lay, shaking off the impact. “We could have stood together, Ravage, a united Council to rebuild the Empire, but you’re too bound up in your petty ambitions to do what is truly best for the Empire. We can no longer afford this infighting amongst ourselves. The Empire must stand as one or fall.”

“We have already fallen, thanks to you”, he growled, wiping blood from his lips. “There is nothing left, but at least I can avenge it by destroying the cowardly bitch and her Imperial pet that brought it down.”

As he lunged for her, she felt a slight ripple in the Force behind her. On pure instinct, she reached out with her free hand and felt the hilt of Vowrawn’s saber fall neatly into her palm. With a feral smile, she ignited it and met Ravage’s attack with an intricate dance of blades that ended as his body toppled to the ground, marked with several gaping wounds.

Panting, she turned to flash Vowrawn a lopsided smile, as she tossed his saber back to him, “Thanks.”

The elder Sith merely shrugged, his eyes lingering upon Ravage’s corpse, “He was an insufferable prat. I’m not sorry to see him dead. And quite happy that I can at least say that my saber dealt one of the killing blows. Nice speech, by the way.”

Hyperia shrugged, “It was nothing more than the truth. We can’t continue following the old ways where we’re fighting each other more than our actual enemies.”

“I couldn’t agree more”, he replied before sweeping his hand over the courtyard, “Now, perhaps we could go share some of that unity and goodwill with some of our fellow Imperials? I’m sure there’s more than a few who could use our help…and it would be nice to show them a supportive Sith face for a change.”

Her duel with Ravage finished, the skytroopers had continued on their patrol, apparently content to let their conquered subjects slaughter each other. However, a small crowd of Imperial citizens had hovered around the fringes, watching eagerly. Once Ravage had fallen, a few inched forward cautiously, as though unsure what to make of what had just happened.

“M’Lords?”, a well-muscled man with a thick Ziost accent stepped forward, bowing deeply. He reminded Hyperia a bit of Lieutenant Pierce and felt a faint twinge of nostalgia. Part of her wanted to miss the big lunk, but a louder part reminded her that he would have probably been standing at Ravage’s side, spitting in her face and calling for Quinn’s death. _Big moron never could get over his jealousy and the ridiculous hope that I’d go running to his bed….even after Quinn and I were married._

Shoving the thought aside, she paused to address the man, “Yes?”

The big man’s hands were shaking and he kept his gaze cast downward, but there was a faint flicker of hope in his voice, “What you said back there…to Lord Ravage…about standing together to rebuild the Empire…you really meant it?”

As he spoke the rest of the crowd that had, up until now, kept their distance, began shuffling forward, eager to hear her reply. They wore hope, pride, and anticipation upon their faces mixed in with the rapidly-dissolving fear. As her eyes slid over the crowd, a few dropped their gazes, but she noticed out of the corner of her eye that they quickly darted back up to watch her expectantly.

“Yes, I did. We cannot revert back to the old ways of treating Imperial citizens as lesser beings than Sith. You are all a vital part of the Empire and we have allowed ourselves to forget that in our struggle to maintain power. Now we are all a conquered people and we must fight together to rebuild the Empire into something stronger than it has ever been before.” Inwardly, Hyperia could not help but wonder where these words were coming from. She had never been one for speeches, but something just forced its way out of her that she hadn’t realized had been lying dormant until now.

A small noise emitted from the assembled group…not quite a cheer, but a collective murmur of excitement. The big man actually smiled, the expression lighting up his grime-covered face. “Thank you, m’Lord. That means a lot. We’ll do our best to help however we can, you can count on it.”

“Thank you”, she murmured before turning away from the crowd to wander deeper into the city, Vowrawn in tow. “This feels very…odd. Having people treat me like I’m some sort of savior….right after I just handed the Empire over to a hostile force.”

“They’re no longer worried about what you did…they’re excited about what they think you’ll do.” He tossed her a crooked smile, mirth in his eyes, “They’ll be calling you ‘Empress’ in no time.”

“Oh stars”, she groaned, “I don’t know if I’m going to be ready for that.”

Leaning in, he offered a conspiratorial whisper, “You already are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up way longer than I'd planned and still didn't cover everything. But I'm pretty happy with it. Just have to put off the squishy romantic stuff until next chapter.  
> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments on this so far. It's nice when I crank something out that's pretty much unplanned and find that I'm not the only one enjoying it! Keeps my motivation up and churning right along! Glad you're along for the ride!


	5. Broken and Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and me  
> we're in this together now  
> none of them can stop us now  
> we will make it through somehow  
> you and me  
> if the world should break in two  
> until the very end of me  
> until the very end of you  
> \--"We're in This Together" by NIN
> 
> Quinn and Hyperia must find strength in each other as the full extent of his injuries is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Slightly graphic descriptions of severe trauma, amputation anxiety, mild PTSD

The next few hours Hyperia and Vowrawn spent wandering about the ruined city, offering aid to those in need of it, as well as words of hope and encouragement. They managed to sway many to their side, but they still encountered harsh glares and not-so-subtle threatening gestures as they picked their way through the rubble.

_Hundreds of years of being subjugated by the Sith and being treated like inferior beings won’t be erased overnight_ , she tried to reassure herself. _And few remember the days when the Sith were exiles cowering in a forgotten corner of the galaxy, licking their wounds after the Great Hyperspace War, not the mighty conquerors we’ve built ourselves up to be._

Her musings were interrupted as her toe caught on a small chunk of rock, Vowrawn’s hand quickly grasped her arm to keep her from falling. “You need to get some rest”, he snapped with the warm sternness of a doting grandfather.

Feeling herself swaying on her feet, even with his steadying grasp, she reluctantly nodded, “You’re probably right. But…I need to check on Quinn.”

Vowrawn eyed her for a moment, then nodded, “Very well. I will take you there, but after that…go to bed.”

Their ambling path had taken them back towards their speeder. Surprisingly, it still remained where they had left it, undamaged. Hyperia decided that at least the people’s fear of the Sith had granted them that much. It took barely a minute to reach one of the few intact buildings that had been set up as a medical center.

Wounded Imperials in various states of injury milled outside the doors. Hyperia noted that there were no Sith waiting outside. They had, no doubt, been triaged to the front of the line, regardless of the severity of their injuries. The thought that, were it not for her influence, Quinn might have been amongst those dying upon the doorstep, made her gut clench in anger.

Her assumptions proved correct as she approached. The guards blocking the doors parted for her, allowing her entrance unchallenged. A harried-looking medic greeted her just inside. “My Lord, how may we aid you?”

She wanted to rail at him for the unfairness…to find the supervisor in charge and force him to start treating those waiting outside…but, in her current state, she couldn’t find the words she needed through the fog of exhaustion. “I’m seeking…an Imperial Major. Brought in…badly burned.”

“Yes, my Lord!”, the medic consulted a datapad, then gestured down a hallway, “Room E6, fourth door on the left. I can show you…”

Waving off his offer with a gesture, she shook her head, “No, I can find it. Take care of the wounded outside…no matter who they are.”

The man blinked in brief confusion, then nodded emphatically, “Yes, my Lord, of course!”

Hyperia didn’t know if he would follow the order, but at that moment, had not the energy to spare to worry about it. Stepping through the doorway to the room designated “E6-Intensive Care (VIP)”, she let her gaze sweep over the bustle of medics scurrying about urgently, towards the back of the room where several kolto tanks stood, all of them occupied.

Reaching out through their shared bond, she located Quinn almost immediately, her feet propelling her towards his tank as though the bond was a physical thing, pulling her in. He was heavily sedated and wearing a thin cotton waistwrap to preserve a modicum of modesty. Hyperia couldn’t help but flinch upon seeing the true extent of the damage that had been done by Arcann’s lightning blast.

From the top of his knee all the way up to his neck and along the side of his face, his entire left side was a motley of charred grey and glistening crimson, edged with pale pink and cream as the kolto worked to restore the ravaged tissue. But that had not been the worst of it, for his arm had borne the brunt of the blast and, from the elbow down, it was a scant remnant of scorched bone and tendon, barely held together with scraps of flesh.

Hyperia dug her nails into her palm, trying to resist the urge to scream or cry or both at seeing him this way. It took every ounce of willpower to not snap at the doctor as she came up beside her and bowed, “My Lord.”

Swallowing twice to regain her composure, Hyperia forced herself to tear her eyes away from the tank, “What is his status?” Mentally, she cursed herself for the faint tremor that crept into her voice, but if the doctor noticed it, she didn’t comment.

“It will be several hours still until we can take him out of the tank. As you can see, the damage was extensive, but we will not know exactly how much of it will linger until we let the kolto finish its work.”

Hyperia leaned heavily against the tank as the doctor spoke, the last burst of adrenaline wearing off. It was getting hard to think. “Good…very good.” She blinked, noting the doctor was staring at her with concern.

“My Lord, you are exhausted. You need to sleep. We will contact you when we bring him out of the tank.” Cautiously taking Hyperia’s arm to steady her, the doctor called out to one of her assistants, “Find an empty bed…or make one!”

Hyperia snapped to alertness enough to bark, “No!” At the doctor’s look of confusion, she continued, “I won’t let you toss someone out on my account. Just…a chair or corner…or anything out of the way…is fine.”

The doctor nodded, gently guiding her to a side door, “You can sleep in my office. It will be somewhat quiet and I shouldn’t be needing it any time soon.”

“Thank you”, Hyperia managed to mumble as the doctor settled her into a worn office chair.

“Is there anything else you need, my Lord?”, she began, but trailed off as Hyperia had already fallen fast asleep.

\------------------------------------------------

_Rain….thunder…_

_Melting away….washing pieces of me away….must get inside…_

_A building looms near….my arm…I can’t feel it….it’s dissolving…._

_Crawling to shelter….PAIN….stinging like a thousand needles…._

_Spiders, tiny, swarming over the ruined parts…trying to stitch them back together…_

_Thunder roars…lightning flares…and the world explodes, turning all to ash…_

_Screaming…dissolving into nothingness…._

_“When everything has been stripped from you, only then will you know your true power and destiny…”_

Hyperia sat upright, eyes snapping open…for a moment unsure of where she was. The dream…vision?...hadn’t haunted her for years and this time it was…different. Bit and pieces woven together as though it was flashes of what Quinn had endured melding with the fever dream she’d had back on Taris. _I must have opened our bond while I was sleeping and somehow his subconscious slipped into my dream._

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, one of the nurses poked her head cautiously in the door, “My Lord? Dr. Verios is about to get your…umm…Imperial…serv--”

Hyperia smirked as the woman stammered, “’Husband’…he’s my husband.”

The woman blinked in obvious surprise, then quickly recovered, inclining her head respectfully, “Of course, my Lord…my apologies. He’s ready to come out of the tank now.”

Hyperia followed at the nurse’s heels as they re-emerged into the main ward. Quinn lay unconscious upon a bed, two medical droids hovering around him, carefully dabbing the last remnants of kolto from his skin while the doctor eyed the readouts from a handheld scanner, her lips twisted in thought.

As Hyperia approached, she glanced up, “My Lord, thank you for attending. We have him heavily sedated still and before we wake him, I will need to go over options with you.”

“Options?” Hyperia lifted a brow, attempting to keep her expression placid though worry flared in her gut.

“Yes”, setting the scanner aside, the doctor began circling the table, “The damage was extensive and while kolto can mend muscle and tissue up to a point, the deep nerve trauma that was done will need to be addressed.”

The matter-of-factly way in which the doctor droned…as though she was describing what she had for lunch…grated on Hyperia’s nerves. _She’s a doctor and he’s just another patient to her…she probably sees this all too often and must harden herself against it_ , she mentally chided herself before replying, “Of course.”

“The worst damage is obviously here on the left arm”, as she spoke Hyperia’s gaze slid over the mangled flesh and exposed bone, her jaw tight. “It can obviously not be left untreated. The best option is to amputate and fit him with a cybernetic prosthetic. He will then regain anywhere from 75-100% mobility, depending on the model you wish to choose. If you do not wish that sort of expenditure, cybernetic implants are also an option, but will only regain, at most, 40% mobility. It is, of course, up to you, my Lord.”

Hyperia felt a spark of anger flicker deep within her gut. _She’s talking like he’s a droid…something that I just decide how much I want to spend to maintain him. Is this how people really see the Sith? How they think we treat all non-Sith?_ She already knew the answer to those questions before she had asked them. They had been made abundantly clear during her years with Quinn at her side.

“It is not up to me”, she snapped sharply.

The doctor blinked in puzzlement, “My Lord?”

“This is my _husband_ , my bonded lifemate, not some disposable servant droid. It is up to _him_ what he wants to do to his own body. So, if you want to explain the options, perhaps you should wake him up and explain them to _him_.” As she spoke, the doctor’s face went deathly pale, her eyes widening with fear.

“I…I’m so sorry, my Lord…I didn’t know”, circling around the table, she pressed a button on the nearby console. “I am taking him off of sedation now. He should regain consciousness within a few minutes, though he will still be a bit groggy. I can’t take him off the painkillers just yet. I will…let you have a few moments alone.” Bowing, the doctor backed away and scurried off to her office.

Grabbing a nearby chair, Hyperia pulled it up beside the bed and settled heavily into it, tugging a sheet up to his chest to preserve some modicum of modesty. Then she took his undamaged hand, slowly rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

After a few moments, his eyes slowly fluttered open and Hyperia thought that she could just drown herself in their deep blue depths in sheer relief. A smile spread over her lips as he rasped out faintly, “My Lor—Hyper—love?” The words tumbled out in a breathless rush, “I’m so sorry, I—“

Leaning in to gently push a lock of damp hair from his brow, she shook her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Malavai.”

“I should not…have gotten in the way. I only…I thought he was going to kill you. Just tried…to distract him.” His gaze slid away from hers even as she pressed her lips to his fingers.

“And he might have if you hadn’t. You saved my life”, her voice cracked, her fingers tightening around his, “I only wish I had been faster…I didn’t react in time and you paid the price. I—“

Quinn shifted in the bed, then frowned, a faint thread of panic in his voice, “Why—can’t I feel anything?”

“Relax, love, they have you on some pretty strong pain medication. The doctor needs to…discuss some things with you before they take you off of it.”

Quinn picked up on the worry in her voice and fixed her with a serious glare, “What is it? Am I—?”

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, “You will be fine…and back at my side in no time, I promise.”

Footsteps approached and Hyperia turned to see the doctor returning, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, “Major, it is good to see you awake. Your…wife”, she darted a worried glance to Hyperia, as though expecting to be punished for not using a Sith honorific. When the expected scolding did not come, she cleared her throat and continued, “…and I were discussing your condition and the options to get you back on your feet again.”

The doctor pressed a button, raising the head of the bed so that Quinn was propped up semi-upright. As the sheet fell away, his expression shifted to horror when the mangled remains of his arm were revealed. Hyperia gave his hand a comforting squeeze as the doctor met his gaze, “I know it looks bad, but it is not without hope. Let us focus on the rest first…”

Drawing the sheet slightly aside, she indicated the thick scar tissue snaking over his thigh, “You are quite lucky. Ten centimeters to the right and you would be dead. Five centimeters and you could give up any hope of procreating.” Ignoring the flush that rose to Quinn’s cheeks, she continued, “There was some nerve damage so, without cybernetic implants or extensive physical therapy, you will have a permanent limp.” Flipping the sheet back over his leg, she gestured to his chest, “You were thankfully spared any sort of serious nerve damage above that, but if you find you have trouble breathing or heart palpitations, report it immediately.” Gently probing his neck and cheek, she eyed the burns tracing the side of his face, “Are you experiencing any ringing in your ear? Blurry vision in this eye?”

Quinn frowned, brows creased in thought, “A slight amount of ringing, but my vision seems fine.”

“Good”, she withdrew the touch, nodding, “If you find it getting worse, report it.” Pausing for a moment, she allowed her gaze to drift to his ruined arm, “Now…for the bad news. I have already spoken to your Lor—wife about your options, but she insists that you be the one to make the final decision.”

Hyperia gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a smile curving her lips at the faintly surprised look he gave her before turning his attentions back to the doctor. “And what are my options, exactly?”

“Your best option is if we amputate and fit you with a prosthetic. This will give you back most, if not all, of your motor functions.”

He visibly swallowed, paling slightly, “And the other options?”

She shrugged, “We can give you concentrated bacta treatments to try and regrow as much of the muscle and skin tissue as we can, then fit you with cybernetic implants here”, she tapped his arm slightly above the elbow where the damage was not as severe, “in order to try and stimulate what few nerve endings you have left. But best estimate on restoring your motor function is only around 40%...and that is being generous.”

Hyperia could feel his hand trembling in hers as Quinn took several deep breaths, his jaw set. After a few seconds, he spoke, his voice tight, controlled, “I cannot afford to be at less than peak efficiency…not now. Do what you must.” He glanced over to Hyperia and she could feel the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Turning her gaze to the doctor, Hyperia snapped, “You heard him…do whatever it takes, spare no expense.”

“Yes, my Lord!” The doctor bowed deeply, “We will take all the necessary measurements for the prosthetic, and while that is being crafted, will begin the implants where needed.” She paused, lips pursed in thought, “The procedure should not take more than a day or two, depending on how quickly we can manage to get the new arm made. Provided the cybernetics division is not a smoking crater, of course. If we run into any issues, we will contact you immediately.”

Hyperia nodded, attempting to keep a stern visage despite the iron grip Quinn had her hand in at the moment, “Very good. Now leave us.”

Once the doctor and her assistants were out of sight, she turned to Quinn and leaned in to enfold him in a tight embrace. His grip released her hand to cradle the back of her head, his fingers sliding through her hair. She could feel him shaking against her, the anxiety he had been fighting so hard to conceal bleeding through mental shields that were slowly crumbling.

“You will be fine, love”, she whispered resting her forehead against his, a tiny smile creasing her lips, “And back at my side soon, stronger than ever.”

His voice was harsh, broken, “The Empire needs you and you’re here….”

Pulling away so he could look into her eyes, she fixed him with a reproachful stare, “No, don’t start blaming yourself. The Empire is not going to fall into ruin any more than it already has if I am here with you. You have always been my strength…and now I will be yours.”

“What’s left of me”, he muttered sullenly, his gaze dropping.

Taking his chin gently in her hand, she turned his gaze back up to her, letting his eyes fall upon the cybernetic implants that slithered along her jawline and over her eye, “Am I less of a person because of these?”

“No, of course not, but…”

“A new arm, some implants…those will not diminish who you are. You will still be the same incredible man who stirs my passions like nothing in this galaxy ever could. A few bits of metal will never change that.” She lightly tapped his forehead, “And it does not take away what’s in here. And the Empire will need that more than ever.”

She felt his grip relax somewhat, a determination growing in his eyes. Some things never changed…namely, the fact that his loyalty to the Empire would always be as steadfast as his loyalty to her. “We will save it together, you and I”, she whispered as she leaned in to press her lips fervently to his. The passion with which he returned it stirred her heart and reassured her that he would recover from this ordeal.

Sensing the doctor and her associates lingering nearby, she rose to her feet. “I will return when they are done. Stay strong.”

Quinn silently nodded as the medical team approached, the doctor offering a reassuring smile, “He is in the best of hands, my Lord, I promise. I will contact you when he is ready to leave.”

“Thank you”, giving Quinn’s hand one last encouraging squeeze, she turned and strode from the medical center, her stomach in knots. Once outside, she summoned a taxi, praying there were any left in service after the attack.

It took several minutes longer than normal…in which time she noted with satisfaction that most of the injured had been taken inside…but eventually, the taxi arrived, both it and the droid looking a bit worse for wear, but still functioning.

She gave the droid the coordinates to their home and settled back in the seat, allowing herself a moment to breathe. However, her brief serenity was short-lived as the taxi crested the ruined buildings of the city to reveal plumes of smoke rising in the distance…from the exact direction of their home.

She felt her heart sink as drew near, unable to conceal the crack in her voice as it came into full view, “Oh no…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rather abrupt ending! This ran on way longer than I'd intended, so I figured it would make a good stopping place. It was nice to be able to write a whole chapter that focused on Hyperia and Quinn and their relationship, where everything that's going on outside in the Empire gets pushed aside by her concern for him.  
> There's a lot of medical and psychological stuff in here, I know. I tried to research the psychological effects of amputation as much as I could to make Quinn's reaction as real as possible. Admittedly, the technological advances in the SW universe make it not quite as severe since prosthetics and implants are so much more advanced than our modern world. However, if anyone would like to check my work for any potential inaccuracies, please feel free to let me know. I am neither a doctor nor a psychologist, nor anyone who has had to deal with this in RL.  
> Thanks again to everyone reading and commenting! I'm going to try not to fizzle out too soon on this!


	6. Shattered Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia meets with the Dark Council to begin the rebuilding of the Empire

“My Lord”, the taxi droid’s metallic monotone droned, “I regret to inform you that there is no suitable landing pad to disembark from.”

The droid wasn’t wrong. The landing pad was just…gone…along with a sizeable section of the outer balcony. Hyperia felt a small wave of relief that the damage wasn’t nearly as extensive at it had appeared from a distance. Whatever had hit it…the Zakuulan’s orbital bombardment, no doubt…had just clipped the residence.

“Just pull up alongside”, she replied. As the droid complied, she gathered herself and used the Force to propel her in a seemingly-impossible leap onto a still-intact section of the balcony.

As the speeder flew off, she took a moment to assess the damage from the outside. The landing pad was gone and what was left of the balcony was a twisted ruin of metal. The vast windows overlooking the city from their chambers were shattered, the rain steadily pouring into the room.

With a heavy sigh, she strode through the doors, rain dripping from her hair and clothes onto the plush carpet already soaked through.

“Master!”, a familiar voice cried out, accompanied by the clank of metal feet running upon wet carpet. “It is so good to see you, kind, gentle, powerful master!” Too-Vee’s tinny voice carried across the open chambers, his eyes glowing bright yellow in the rainy gloom.

Before Hyperia could get a word in edgewise, the droid continued his subservient babbling, “I am so sorry, my master, that everything is such a mess! Did someone attack us? Who would dare to strike a blow against our mighty Empire? Or you?!”

“It’s fi—“

Again Too-Vee cut her off, his worry apparently overriding logic circuits that should have told him what a bad idea that was, “And where is Master Quinn? Oh dear…he’s not…?”

“He’s fine, Too-Vee”, Hyperia managed to finally say, “He was injured in the battle, but is being taken care of.” Before the droid could reply, she continued, striding into the domicile, “We need to get repairs started, but I’m sure everyone is busy with the rest of the city at the moment. Go downstairs and talk to Ex-Too, see if he can fabricate something to at least keep out the rain.”

She could almost imagine a disgusted sneer overlaid upon the droid’s immutable features. Too-Vee always had a rather disdainful opinion of the astromech droid that Hyperia and Quinn had acquired to take care of repairs shortly after moving in. Too-Vee’s mechanical expertise had mainly focused on shipboard systems (and the occasional caf machine malfunction), while Ex-Too was much more proficient in repairing most of the electrical and mechanical issues that might crop up around their home.

With a metallic sigh, the droid turned back towards the stairs, “Very well, master. And Lord Vowrawn called for you a few hours ago.”

Trudging through the damp carpet, Hyperia made her way into the side room that Quinn had made his office. Imperial recruiting posters and holo-images of various Imperial Starfighters decked the walls, and an expansive desk was framed against a single vast window that overlooked the Dromund Kass wilderness.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she settled into the high-backed synth-leather chair that still held his scent and activated the comm. Darth Vowrawn’s image flickered into view a few seconds later.

“Ah, there you are!”, the elder Pureblood Sith exclaimed cheerfully. “I do hope that your dear Major is doing fine?”

“Yes, he will recover”, Hyperia replied, grateful for his concern yet curious as to the reason for his call. “What do you need?”

The holo-image rolled his eyes in a show of obvious disbelief. “It’s not what _I_ need, my dear, but what the Empire needs. Namely, a meeting of the Dark Council. We need to gather whoever is left together and quickly before some of the less…wise among them decide to either save their own hides or follow in Ravage’s footsteps to go after yours.”

Hyperia groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose, already weary just of the prospect of having to batter the rest of the Council into doing what was best for the Empire and not just their own personal ambitions. “Yes, you’re right. I think it would be best if you called the summons. Otherwise, there’s a much greater chance that they will either ignore it or take the opportunity to stage an ambush.”

“Quite so”. Vowrawn paused, eyeing her speculatively for a moment. “Perhaps in…an hour. You look like you could use a turn in the refresher.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his bluntness. “More than one, probably. But, yes, in an hour.” Switching off the comm, she reluctantly leveraged herself up from the chair and left the office to do just that.

The vast expanse of their chambers was a wreck. The explosion had thrown the bed completely across the room where it had knocked aside the dining table and chairs to come to rest against the far wall, the mattress a ruined mass of gel-fiber and fabric. The table and chairs were scrap and splinters upon the wet glass-strewn floor.

With a heavy sigh, she gathered the Force and carefully set the bed back in place where it was no longer blocking the door to their wardrobe and washroom. With the sound of glass crunching underfoot, she crossed the expanse and ducked into the wardrobe, picking out an armored set of robes suitable for impressing the Dark Council before wearily stepping into the refresher.

\-----------------------------------

As she guided the speeder towards the Sith Enclave, Hyperia tried to formulate a strategy for dealing with the other Council members. Vowrawn was already behind her and, from what she had observed and heard about Acina, she was a practical sort, so Hyperia liked to think that she would not be difficult to win over. Mortis, Nox, and Aruk were the unknown factors. _At least I no longer have to worry about Ravage_ , she mused as the speeder alighted onto the Enclave’s landing platform.

The Citadel had taken a beating during the attack, but it still stood proud and tall amongst the ruins of the city. _This Eternal Empire hurt us…they tried to take my husband, my home, and my Empire, but all still stand, though marked by the ordeal. This will not defeat us…it will make us stronger._ Taking a deep breath, she strode to the Council chambers. _Now, it’s just a matter of making them believe that._

As the doors parted before her, Hyperia let her gaze sweep over the assembled Lords who milled about the room impatiently, all pretense of formality forgotten. The attack by Zakuul seemed to have scattered them about like leaves in the wind. Vowrawn stood as the placid center, while Mortis paced restlessly. Acina scowled at her datapad and Nox lounged casually against the far wall, watching the goings-on with obvious boredom.

_Four…is that all that is really left of us?_ There had been seven…eight if she counted her former master…at her duel with Baras. But most of them were dead or missing now.

“Ah, you have arrived!” Vowrawn piped up cheerily. Hyperia felt gooseflesh rise as all eyes turned to her. She was beginning to hate how he kept trying to push her into the spotlight. The Council needed leadership, but she wasn’t entirely sure that it should be her...or that she was even ready or willing to take it.

Mortis ceased his pacing and eyed her warily, “I see that Vowrawn has not lost his taste for the theatrical. But your presence is unnecessary…and unwanted. You are not a part of this Council.”

Hyperia merely quirked a brow, lips tugging in amusement. She had predicted that Mortis would be the toughest nut to crack here. Surprisingly, she did not even have to say a word, for Nox spoke up, though never moving from her casual slouch against the wall. “But she is…her former master’s seat still stands empty. Who else better to claim it?”

Wearing an expression caught somewhere between disgusted and amused, Mortis slanted a glance to Vowrawn, “But she’s not here to just take her master’s place…is she?”

Before Vowrawn could answer, Hyperia rolled her eyes, her tone impatient. “I’m here to try and get a start on the rebuilding of the Empire. Why are _you_ here, Mortis?”

“Enough!” Acina snapped, pocketing her datapad. “This posturing is pointless. She’s right. Worrying about hierarchy can wait until we’ve dealt with the crisis at hand. And right now, we will need everyone focused on that.”

“Good to see we’re on the same page now”, Vowrawn said with a faint smirk as he turned to the comm panel. “Please send Minister Beniko in.”

A moment later, the door hissed open, admitting the blonde Sith who now stood as the Minister of Sith Intelligence. Hyperia thought her to be probably the most un-Sith-like Sith she had ever met. Lana Beniko refused to use the title of “Lord” and possessed an air of calm stoicism usually found among the Jedi. Clad in austere robes of black and deep green, the only thing that gave away her true nature were her faintly-glowing golden eyes.

“My Lords”, she addressed them with the confidence of an equal. “I would have much preferred to conduct this briefing back at Sith Intelligence where I could better illustrate…”

Vowrawn cut her off with a good-natured chuckle, “We’re not children, my dear, who need lots of pretty pictures to understand the situation.”

Lana’s cheeks flushed…the only outward sign of her disapproval, her voice calm as she pulled forth a datapad. “Very well. Shall we begin?”

As the Councilors settled into their respective seats…Hyperia somewhat reluctantly taking her former master’s…Lana consulted the datapad for a moment before beginning.

“Communications are currently irregular, but the information we have managed to gather is not encouraging. All of our shipyards have been destroyed or disabled to the point where it will take at least six months to get them operational again. And that’s provided we are able to obtain supplies…which, at the moment, we are not because the Eternal Empire’s fleet has the trade lanes blockaded. Around 70-75% of the Imperial military fleet has also been destroyed or disabled. However, trade and other civilian ships seem to be still in operation, they are just unable to get past the blockades.”

“They wish to cripple us, not destroy us, it seems”, Acina mused thoughtfully.

Frowning, Lana nodded. “Yes, that is the conclusion I have reached as well. Their ground troops are not attacking anyone who does not attack first. Their ships sit silently in orbit. If they wanted to completely decimate us, they could have already. They seem to be waiting.”

“For what?” Mortis snapped, scowling. “They have us thoroughly under their heel and we know nothing of their intentions.”

“I would assume they are still busy dealing with the Republic.” Again Lana consulted the datapad, “My agents there have reported that Supreme Chancellor Saresh refuses to surrender.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when the Republic showed more balls than the Sith”, Mortis mumbled, shooting a venomous glance to Hyperia.

“It was the right decision”, Lana snapped, her veneer of imperturbability falling for a moment. “The Zakuulan fleet is decimating Republic space and will not stop until they have surrendered or are completely annihilated.”

A small giggle arose from Nox, “We should be so lucky that they’d wipe them out for us.”

“Indeed, but without the Republic around to oppose them, they would no doubt turn the entirety of their forces upon us”, Lana replied. “So, even if we ever were able to restore our own back to what they had been, we would be facing at least twice the strength they originally sent against us.”

“And that would be instant suicide”, Hyperia grumbled, feeling the weight of their predicament pressing down upon her shoulders.

Mortis sighed, “So, what do we do now? Just sit and wait until our new masters get around to telling us what they want?”

Rising from her seat, Hyperia shook her head, “No, we start rebuilding as much as we can. We keep our eyes and ears open to any useful intel. We gather whatever allies we can.” Turning to Lana, she inquired, “What of the Mandalorians? Have we heard anything from them?”

“The intel is sketchy, but a few of the clans are still fighting. I doubt they’ll last long, though. They seem to be scattered and pinned down.” Lana’s shoulders raised in a helpless shrug. “We won’t be receiving any aid from them while they are too busy defending their own.”

Releasing a tired huff, Hyperia began pacing, trying to gather her thoughts. “We know almost nothing about this Eternal Empire or Zakuul, aside from the fact that we seem to have shared an Emperor and that they are far more technologically advanced than anything we’ve ever encountered before.”

“That’s not…entirely true”, Acina offered, rising from her seat to send a signal from her datapad to the holo-imager in the middle of the room. A schematic of one of the Zakuulan attack droids flickered into being. “My people have managed to take preliminary scans of their combat droids and it would appear they are not that advanced. In fact, I’d dare say they are less so than our own. They seem to possess only the most basic programming and minimal armor and weaponry. However, they show signs of being mass-produced on an enormous scale.”

“So they just overwhelm any enemy with sheer numbers?” Vowrawn mused, eyeing the schematic, “That makes sense. It seems to be their preferred tactic from what we’ve seen thus far. What about their ships?”

“We have been able to gather less intel on those aside from what our own fleet could manage to send during battle.” Another swipe of her finger and the holo-image shifted to one of the strange cruciform vessels. “But, in this, they have both the numbers and the strength. They possess advanced stealth technology, hyperdrive, shields, and weaponry that all far surpass our own. Their fleet operates with a precision that is…inhuman.”

“How so?” Vowrawn asked.

“There is no hesitation, no irregularities in their strategy. Their formations are mathematic perfection. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that they are commanded by droids, or perhaps an advanced AI.”

“Rakata”, Nox muttered, still slumped languidly in her seat.

As all eyes turned to her, she shrugged, “That’s what Aruk thinks anyway.” A smirk tugged at her lips, “Or at least what I made him think. It would make sense. The Emperor supposedly manipulated those pesky Revanites to Rakata Prime. Which holds the ruins of the Star Forge. Which created technological marvels from the energy of the Dark Side.” Idly twirling a lock of raven hair around one finger, her sightless gaze turned to the vaulted ceiling. “I’m not saying my theory is correct…but it’s a place to start. Or so Aruk thought, anyway.”

Mortis narrowed his eyes at the smirking Miraluka, “And where is Aruk?”

“On his way to Rakata Prime…or Wild Space.” Again she shrugged nonchalantly. “Guess the old guy wanted to feel useful in his last days. Maybe solve this great mystery.”

Mortis released an irritated huff, “So, you ‘persuaded’ him to go on what is essentially a suicide mission.”

“More or less. I would have gone myself but, as you said, it’s a suicide mission.” Nox grinned expansively, obviously proud of her deception.

Ignoring the tension building between the two Sith, Vowrawn turned to Lana, “Have we heard from the Hutts? Is the fleet attacking their worlds as well?”

“No, but they are under a blockade…for the moment. With the exception of a rare few like Toborro, they tend to be more inclined to try and buy out their enemies rather than fight them in a physical conflict.” Briefly consulting her datapad, she frowned before continuing, “The criminal cartels such as The Exchange are still in full swing…actually growing more powerful as they feed off of the desperate. Though smuggling operations are at something of a standstill due to the blockades.”

Hyperia sank back into her seat with a heavy sigh, fingers attempting to rub away the headache that had begun to form at her temples. The one cup of caf that she had tossed down on her way out the door was barely enough to keep her going.

“With all that we know, we still aren’t any closer to dragging ourselves out from under the Zakuulans’ boot heel. So, we just need to focus on rebuilding for now. Vowrawn, you know what to do: get the resources and people you need to get us functioning again. Mortis, your people need to keep a lid on our own…stop rioters, looters, the usual sort who will try to take advantage of the chaos. Acina…keep researching their tech, but make sure you focus on getting ours up and running again. Nox…keep on trying to figure out what the history books might hint at concerning this Eternal Empire…and if there’s any sort of hidden knowledge, artifacts, whatever, we can use in our favor. Follow the Rakatan lead if you think there’s something to it.”

“And what will you be doing?” Mortis’ eyes narrowed expectantly.

Pushing from the chair with a sigh, she met his glare with one of her own, “I will be coordinating all of this with Lana as well as the Imperial military so that we are all kept in the loop as far as our progress and what the Zakuulans are doing. And lending a hand wherever it is needed.” Turning her back on him, she addressed the rest, “Now if that is all…you are dismissed.”

Without another word, she strode from the chamber, eager to be away from them and alone with her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the abruptness of the ending...and the fact that this chapter was more or less just an info dump. Next chapter will be a bit more...fun/interesting/etc as Hyperia reunites with a rather changed Quinn. >:-D


	7. Hallowed Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as Kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise._
> 
> After Zakuul's attack, the scars worn by all around Hyperia run deep. But, from the ashes, the Empire will rise again, stronger from the wounds it has endured.

A rumble of thunder awoke Hyperia from a deep and dreamless sleep. As her mind slowly began to regain clarity, she realized that the sound she had heard was not thunder at all. A few seconds later, her fears were confirmed as what appeared to be a burning Imperial shuttle streaked across the sky. A shuddering boom reverberated through the city, rattling the temporary plasteel “windows” Ex-Too had erected as the ship crashed in the midst of the city, a small fire cloud illuminating the misty gloom.

Scrabbling for her comm unit, she quickly punched in a direct line to the Minister of Logistics, the former Moff Lorman. As soon as the man’s face wavered into view, she snapped, “Lorman, what just happened?”

The skinny man blinked a few times as though roused from slumber, then snapped to as he came to the realization of with whom he was speaking. “I don’t know my Lord!” Before Hyperia could berate him, he turned from view for a moment, consulting something unseen, “Wait…one of our shuttles was apparently shot down!”

“By the Zakuulans? Or us?” It seemed an indeterminate amount of time before the Minister replied…during which Hyperia had to restrain herself from strangling the man through the comm out of sheer frustration.

“The reports I’m getting say it was the Zakuulans. Someone tried to run the blockade.”

Hyperia released a frustrated huff. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone got antsy and tried to flee off-world, but she had hoped that the Minister had the sense to close the spaceport once the presence of the blockade had been confirmed. Apparently not.

“Lock the spaceport down, Lorman. I don’t want a repeat of this…mistake. Am I understood?”

The man’s eyes went wide and he nodded emphatically, “Yes, my Lord! Right away!”

“And get crews to the crash site for clean-up and tend to any wounded. I’m on my way.”

“Y-yes, my Lord”, Lorman stuttered, seeming a bit taken aback that she was going to make a personal visit. “As you command.”

As the comm went dark, Hyperia leveraged herself from the spare mattress that had been tossed on the floor since the bedframe was determined to be a lost cause after being hurtled across the room. After taking a quick moment to splash water on her face, she dug out a simple hooded black jumpsuit suitable for manual labor from the wardrobe and made ready to go out into the city.

\------------------------------------

Several hours later, she wiped a hand across her brow, smearing sweat and dust across her skin. The shuttle had damaged a swathe of buildings near the city center nearly three blocks long. Due to the time of night, there were few people on the streets, but she couldn't even imagine how many lived within the damaged buildings. Even now, she could see medics and other emergency responders rushing to and fro, searching for survivors.

However, she was surprised to see how many came to their aid as well as assisting her and Lorman's crews in clearing the debris. Admittedly, a few backed away quickly once she began using the Force to move away some of the heavier rubble, but she wasn’t surprised. For most Imperials, the Sith were powerful, ruthless leaders to be feared and avoided whenever possible. To see one in their midst, working as a common laborer, had to be quite a strange sight.

Certainly, she could have stayed isolated in her home, letting others do the dirty work as would be expected of a powerful Sith and member of the Dark Council. But even the few idle hours spent there brought the crushing reality of the situation bearing down upon her.

She was no stranger to loss…she had lost her family when she was taken to train as a Jedi. Then had witnessed the destruction of the Jedi Temple before being taken by the Sith. There she had found her place and, eventually, a powerful master and purpose in Baras. But even that was torn away by betrayal, with Baras pulling the strings of Draahg, then Quinn. With the death of Baras and her marriage to Quinn, she had finally thought to have established some semblance of stability. But now, it was once again all crumbling before her eyes and she felt helpless to stop it…and helpless was the one thing she refused to be. So, she did what she could to try and rebuild her world back to the way she felt it should be…as she had always done before.

“My Lord?” A tentative voice shook her from her wool-gathering. Turning to the source of the voice, her gaze fell upon a small group of men and women wearing tattered work clothes whose necks were encircled with the distinctive metal gleam of shock collars. They knelt as one before her, the self-appointed leader once again addressing her in shaky tones, “Please forgive my presumptuousness, my Lord, but we were wondering…if you might have some use for us?”

Hyperia had always had very mixed feelings regarding slavery in the Empire. Having spent the first half of her life in the Republic and among the Jedi, where the practice was considered repulsive, she always felt a twinge of guilt whenever she encountered it. But she had also made a home for herself in the Empire and among the Sith, adopting their beliefs and ways, so part of her also considered it a necessary evil at times. Slavery helped build the Empire and kept it running. As much as she would like to abolish it completely, she knew doing so would likely destroy it just as surely as the Zakuulan ships in orbit could.

“Who is your master?” She had to ask. Despite her high-ranking position among the Sith, it would be considered very bad form for her to steal another’s slaves.

“We are engineers and fabricators ’employed’ by Lur Ardeth of DynaCorp…or we were until that attack took out the entire building…with him in it.” The man’s tone implied that he wasn’t overly heartbroken over the loss.

A puzzled frown curved her lips. She had always been under the impression that slavery was reserved for workers of more menial tasks. To discover that professionals of their field had been degraded in such a way…it begged more questions than she had words for.

Pulling forth her comm unit, she called Vowrawn. As always, he replied with uncanny swiftness, “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“I have a group of engineers who would be most useful in helping to restore the city. I can imagine that you are in need of such talent?”

“Of course!” A smile split his narrow features, “Send them over to the Citadel immediately!”

Nodding, Hyperia noted the anticipation on the slaves’ faces and added, “They will need to be relieved of their shock collars and added to the database of Imperial citizens.”

Vowrawn blinked, eyes widening, “Oh, freeing slaves now, are we? I’m sure this will be an interesting story to hear later on. But…your wish is my command. Send them over and it will be done.”

As she ended the call, a small choked sob echoed from the group, still kneeling at her feet. The man who had addressed her looked up at her with an expression so full of joy it nearly shattered her. “M—my Lord….I cannot express my…our gratitude. Thank you…thank you so much.”

Fighting back the emotion in her own voice, she reached down to lift him to his feet, “The Empire needs able and willing citizens to restore it to its former glory, not slaves forced to toil for those who abused them. Now go…there is much work to be done.”

With murmured thanks and smiles of gratitude, the group ambled off in the direction of the Citadel, a newfound spring in their collective gait. Hyperia watched them go for a long moment before a faint touch tickled the edge of her consciousness, like a gentle inquisitive tap on the shoulder. All weariness forgotten, she sent back a surge of relief and love just as her comm beeped.

“My Lord?” The familiar face of Doctor Verios appeared and she seemed as tired as Hyperia felt. “I wanted to inform you that Major Quinn’s surgery is complete. He came through it very well and I think you will be most pleased.”

Hyperia fought to keep her delight subdued as she replied, “Thank you, Doctor. I will be there shortly.”

As the doctor disconnected, Hyperia switched the call over to Too-Vee, the droid responding almost instantly. “Master, what can I--?”

Before he could finish, Hyperia snapped, “Get one of the package droids and send one of Quinn’s full uniforms to my location immediately”, and cut the connection before the droid could even respond, her feet propelling her to the medical center as though of their own volition.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Tell me, Major, are you ticklish?”

Quinn frowned warily at the petite, dark-haired tech as she poised the tip of a slender metal instrument over the palm of his new cybernetic hand, wondering once again if some of these tests were really necessary or yet another attempt at flirting.

“No, I—“ Before he could finish, she slid the tip of the instrument over his hand with the most feather-light of touches, causing his fingers to reflexively twitch, his hand jerking away from the touch.

A girlish giggle that seemed rather incongruent to severe features adorned with her own cybernetics accompanied a wicked sparkle in her one human green eye, “Liar. But all teasing aside, you can switch that off at will, just as with all sensation.” As she switched to a slender scalpel, she lightly tapped his upper arm, her fingernail sounding a faint _tick tick_ against the black metal. “Try it now.”

Shifting his thoughts as the tech had instructed at the beginning of the tests, Quinn briefly concentrated on disabling the neural network running through the new arm and was rewarded by a sudden numbness. “Done.”

“Okay, let’s see”, she replied, this time poking the sharp tip of the scalpel against the smooth metal of his bicep. “Anything?”

“No.” It still fascinated Quinn that a metal arm could feel anything at all. But, according to the doctor and the tech, this model incorporated a sophisticated neural network that simulated the human nervous system almost perfectly, with the added benefit of being able to switch it off at will.

Placing the instrument back on the tray, the tech smiled, “Of course it will take much more than a tiny little knife to cause any damage to this.” Her fingers trailed lightly over his arm and Quinn was briefly thankful that he had not yet reactivated the ability to feel it. The tech had been brazenly flirting with him since the moment she had walked through the door of his recovery room and it was beginning to grate on his nerves, though a small part of him found it rather amusing. It reminded him of Hyperia’s first shameless overtures towards him on Balmorra. However, the dynamics there were vastly different. As a disgraced Imperial officer and servant of Baras, he had been utterly at her mercy, unable to do anything besides hide behind a shield of stoic professionalism. Now, despite possessing only a thin sheet to preserve modesty and having to endure the required series of tests to his new cybernetics…he knew he only had to say a few words and the tech’s career, and possibly life, could be swiftly ended.

Apparently he had let the smug amusement show because the tech eyed him for a moment before beginning to gather up her tools, her manner shifting slightly to shy hesitation, “Will you be needing a ride home? Because you are my last patient for the day so, if you like, I can—“

Even as she spoke, Quinn caught a glimpse of movement outside the door and a flash of familiar auburn hair framing features wearing a distinctly amused smirk. _Oh, this is about to get very interesting_ , he mused, fighting back a wicked smile of his own. “No, my wife should be arriving any time now.”

The tech blinked, then released a wry chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Leaning in slightly, she murmured, “But if you ever change your mind—“

Before she finished, the door swung open to admit Hyperia and Doctor Verios. “He won’t.” Hyperia’s voice dripped with sadistic delight.

The tech let out a panicked squeak as she turned to the doorway to see Hyperia leaning against the doorframe. At first glance, she could have been confused for a common laborer, clad in a dusty jumpsuit, with a package tucked under her arm, her face smudged with grime and hair tangled. But there was no mistaking the malevolent golden glow in her eyes and the crushing power of the Dark Side that radiated from her.

“My Lord!” The tech exclaimed, falling to her knees amidst the clatter of metal as the tray of instruments she had been carrying fell from hands gone numb. “Please forgive me, I didn’t know! I—“

Exchanging an amused smirk with Quinn, Hyperia sighed heavily, boredom oozing from her voice, “Yes, yes….I know, you couldn’t help yourself. Just gather your things and get out.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The girl seemed on the verge of tears as she swiftly collected her tools with shaking hands and fled from the room.

Doctor Verios did not appear as amused, her features pinched with indignant anger, “I apologize profusely for her behavior. I will see to it personally that she is thoroughly disciplined for this breach in conduct.”

Hyperia merely shrugged, pushing from the doorframe, “If you wish. Though I think she has learned her lesson quite well.”

“As you say, my Lord”, the blonde doctor replied with a bow before turning her attention to Quinn. “I am glad to see that you seem to have recovered quite well from all of this.” Leaning in, she eyed the thin rectangular implant set into his temple, “Is there any pain, discomfort or disorientation?”

Quinn shrugged, “Just a faint itching on occasion and slightly blurry vision just on the periphery.”

The doctor straightened, nodding, “That will pass in time. It’s just your body trying to adjust to the enhancements.” Turning, she addressed Hyperia, “Speaking of which, as you can see my Lord, we did go a bit above and beyond what we had discussed prior. That was the Major’s decision. If you would like, I can go over…”

Hyperia waved her off with an idle gesture, “That won’t be necessary. Leave us.”

Quinn felt a slight clenching in his gut as the doctor bowed and scurried out, closing the door behind her. The expression on his wife’s face was inscrutable as her gaze roamed over his newly-augmented body. But the apprehension was short-lived as he felt a wave of approval laced with no small amount of desire flow from her through their bond, accompanied by a wicked smile curling her lips.

“You…are not displeased?” He ventured warily.

A burst of laughter shook her body as she approached the bed, a feral gleam in her eyes, “Oh, quite the contrary. A bit surprised, perhaps, considering your initial trepidation, but most definitely not displeased.” She ran her fingertips along his arm…not unlike the tech had done earlier…but this time, he had reactivated the neural net and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Swallowing hard to fight back his own swiftly-rising desire, he murmured, “You gave me full latitude and I came to the conclusion that I should take this opportunity to enhance my own abilities as much as possible. Especially considering the current situation.”

“That’s my Malavai”, she purred, leaning in to trace her fingers over the rippled scar tissue that crawled along the left side of his face, pausing at the metal implant. “Always thinking ten steps ahead. And what does this intriguing little thing do?"

Quinn leaned into her touch despite the slight twinge of self-consciousness it elicited. He knew he must look a dreadful sight with half his face and neck burnt and a swathe of hair missing. He also knew that she could feel it through their bond and, no doubt had asked the question to distract his mind away. “It provides enhanced vision and hearing, as well as a microprocessor delivering a targeting HUD and datanet access."

Her brows lifted sharply, lips pursing. “Impressive. Anything else?”

By this point, most of the self-consciousness had faded, replaced by a growing pride, as he drew back the sheet to expose an implant that resembled something akin to an arthropod of black metal snaking over his upper thigh and hip. “Adrenal, stim, and kolto injectors.”

“I see I needn’t worry so much about being over-protective of you any longer”, she mused with a quiet laugh.

“Sadly, none of those provide any real protection against the Force.” Quinn shrugged before darting a glance at the package she had placed upon the end of the bed. “Please tell me those are clothes.”

“They are, but….” Hyperia tugged them out of his reach teasingly. “You don’t get them until I see the whole package.” One hand gestured broadly at him, an impish smile on her lips.

“As though I haven’t been ogled at enough today”, he replied with mock weariness.

Hyperia smirked, snapping her fingers impatiently, “I’m your wife…I’m allowed. Come now, don’t be shy.”

With an indignant huff that was barely sincere, Quinn slid from the bed, flinching slightly at the chill of the floor and the faint twinge felt in his hip from the implant’s slight shift as he stood.

Having settled onto the small bedside stool, Hyperia eyed him at length, an unexpected look of hunger in her eyes, her teeth gnawing softly upon her bottom lip. “Stars…you’re…I barely have words.”

With that, Quinn felt a sudden rush of desire, pride, and satisfaction flow through their bond…and for a moment, he saw himself through her eyes: the Imperial officer she had loved, evolved into something so much more than he had been….amplifying her desire for him a hundredfold. It took him by surprise and almost literally rocked him back on his heels. “I—you…” He found himself also struggling to articulate what he had felt. “That’s how you see me?”

Silently she nodded before tossing the package to him with a breathless, husky whisper. “You had better put this on or else I’m just going to have to find out how sturdy that bed is because I can’t remember the last time I’ve needed you this much.”

Settling back onto the edge of the bed with a sly smirk, Quinn tore into the package. “A Sith showing restraint. What has the Empire come to?”

Hyperia rose from the stool and began restlessly pacing the floor, “A Sith who is absolutely filthy and in need of a turn in the refresher.” Pausing, she tossed him a wicked smile of her own, “As well as one who wants to take all evening to thoroughly acquaint myself with the new you…and would much prefer to do it at home rather than a hospital room.”

“Well, I cannot dispute that logic, I suppose.” Quinn chuckled quietly as he began getting dressed, taking care not to snag the fabric on the metal implants. Once finished, he stood, straightening the high collar of the all-black uniform of Sith Intelligence.

Once more, Hyperia looked him over appraisingly and nodded approval. “You truly look the part now.” Pausing, she tapped the tip of her finger against her lips thoughtfully, “However…I have this urge to just rip that sleeve off so your magnificent arm isn’t hidden.”

Quinn blinked, his tone indignant, “That would be quite out of regulation!”

“Darling, do you honestly think anyone really cares about regulations right now?” She replied with a faint chuckle.

However, her attempt at humor was swiftly quashed, as Quinn’s blue eyes turned almost glacial, “I do.” Before she could reply, he continued, “The Empire is barely holding together, so right now, more than ever, we need discipline to keep it cohesive. If we start throwing away everything that made the Empire great, then we will no longer have one at all. It will crumble into chaos and disorder.”

Hyperia stood in stunned silence for a moment and Quinn nearly feared that he had overstepped his bounds. But her features softened, a soft laugh accompanied by a shake of her head as she reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. “You’re exasperating…but you’re also right…as always.”

“Not always”, he murmured, laying his hand atop hers, “But thank you.” He let the moment extend a few seconds longer before twining his fingers in hers and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Are you ready to go?”

“More than ready.” With a grin, she led him from the room and nodded her thanks to the doctor who was already tending to another patient. Once again, the wounded and dying filled the halls of the center…the latest victims of the previous night’s shuttle crash.

Quinn felt a pit of dread growing in his gut. Between the chaos of the battle and the grave injuries he had sustained, the true extent of the devastation remained unknown to him. But as the doors hissed open leading out of the medical center and into the city, it hit him with a force that nearly drove him to his knees in despair.

All levity drained from Hyperia’s face as she watched him take in the destruction that had been wrought upon the city. Even without trying, she could feel the anguish and rage that the sight engendered in him. Despite all of his time away, Dromund Kaas would always be his home…the beating heart of the Sith Empire that he revered. But that heart had been mercilessly crushed into ashes and ruin for no other reason they could discern except “because they could”.

Hyperia felt his fingers tighten around hers, the metal hand clenching into a fist, oblivious to the flesh being slowly crushed within its grip. Biting back the pain, she let his anger grow until she could feel a subtle popping of bone and pushed a quick burst of feedback through their link.

Snapped from his trance, Quinn quickly released her hand, “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay”, she replied with a faint, sad smile, as she flexed her fingers to return some of the feeling to them. “Trust me, I understand. I’ve had three days to inure myself to it…and it still hits hard.”

“I—“ A pained scowl on his face, Quinn turned, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know you want to go home, but…I have to do _something_. I can’t just—“

Placing a fingertip against his lips, she nodded, “I know. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” As he took in her dirty clothes and disheveled state, she traced her hand along his jaw, “Go to Intelligence and talk to Lana. I know she’s running ragged with everything right now and can use all of the help she can get. I’ll be here for you whenever you need.”

Quinn nodded, gratitude and worry in his eyes, “She’s not the only one ‘running herself ragged’ right now…what about you?”

“I’m fine”, she said with a small laugh, “Vowrawn is sharing some of the burden of all of this…” She gestured broadly over the city. “And you keeping Lana from putting herself into an early grave also helps me. So….”

Pulling her into his arms, Quinn rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for understanding. I promise I will return as soon as I can.”

“I know”. Taking his face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his in an ardent kiss. “And I’ll be waiting when you do.”

Reluctantly releasing her, Quinn began the long walk towards the Citadel as Hyperia climbed onto her speeder and gave him one last lingering look before taking off into the smoke-filled gloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter completely spiraled out of my control while I was writing it! It was one fo those cases where I had plans, but Hyperia and Quinn both said "Nope! I think we'll do this instead!" and added/changed quite a few things. But, I like how it turned out. They always do know their own minds the best.  
> After this, I think I'm going to take a small break and/or switch gears to my other fics. Or, depending on what my unpredictable brain wants to do, I might switch over to other POVs for this one for a bit. I already have a chapter idea for my smuggler, so we'll see where that leads. Five years is a long time to fill unless I do a lot of time-skipping (which I probably will).  
> Anyway, enjoy!


	8. The Burdens of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn immerses himself in the never-ending work of trying to keep the Empire stable while chaos sweeps Dromund Kaas.

“Sir, it looks like there’s another food riot starting. Sector 15 this time.”

Major Malavai Quinn barely suppressed a huff of impatience. It would not be professional to show the rest of Sith Intelligence how frustrated he was becoming. He had always seen the Empire’s capital as a model of order and discipline, but in the wake of the attack by Zakuul, Kaas City was rapidly degenerating into chaos and anarchy. The Zakuulan droid troopers seemed to have little interest in stopping any of it. _And why would they,_ Quinn had mused irritably to himself, _when they can watch us destroy ourselves and save them the trouble?_

Darth Mortis had been coordinating the Kaas City police force, but as the days drug by under the watchful boot heel of the Eternal Empire’s fleet, people grew scared, restless, and unpredictable. With the fleet blockading most of the galaxy, it had become increasingly difficult for Intelligence to keep tabs on their agents outside of Dromund Kaas, so…for the time being…they focused their efforts on helping the Sith Lord’s forces to regain some semblance of order in the city.

Making his way over to hover at the Watcher’s shoulder….Watcher Four, if he remembered correctly…Quinn focused his attentions to the multiple monitors arrayed at the slim young man’s station. All showed varying angles of a swarming mass of people, all pushing and jostling one another as they reached out for ration packs being distributed by a squad of soldiers from Imperial Logistics. However, there was an abnormal fear in their eyes and their movements…a few glancing back behind them fervently.

The Watcher maneuvered the one of the surveillance drones to track their line of sight and focused on a towering Pureblood Sith plodding through the mass of civilians with purposeful intent and malice in his pale crimson eyes.

“Identify”, Quinn snapped even as the Watcher’s fingers danced over the controls.

“Lord Nardoth, apprentice of Darth Xal. My apologies… _former_ apprentice…Xal is registered as deceased after the attack on the city. Nardoth has an extensive history of entanglements with Kaas City police and the Imperial military.”

As the Watcher spoke, Quinn watched with disgust as the Sith used the Force to toss aside any civilians blocking his path with the casual disdain of one sweeping away refuse. The feed had no audio, but Quinn could read lips and interpret his manner and gestures enough to surmise the Sith’s intent. His conjecture proved correct as Nardoth then began pointing at the crates, yelling at the Imperial soldiers who began repacking the rations they had been handing out.

Quinn could see the conflict in their eyes, but they obeyed. For a moment, he saw himself as he had been for most of his life…a mere lackey serving at the whims of a merciless Sith who treated Imperial lives as disposable. His jaw tensed as he made a decision.

“Take him out.”

The Watcher blinked, turning wide eyes to him. “Sir?” Those in Intelligence were highly-trained to do whatever was necessary to preserve the Empire, but assassinating a Sith Lord was never done so…casually.

“Do it”, Quinn snapped. They needed to send a message….a message that Hyperia had already been working hard to spread since the attack: all in the Empire needed to stand together against this new threat. There was no longer room for Sith or anyone else who tried to weaken it through their own arrogance and petty ambitions.

“Yessir”, with the press of a button, the image shook almost imperceptibly as a single shot was fired from the drone and the Sith’s body jerked once, then collapsed.

Quinn could almost feel the tense hush that fell over the crowd as they searched for the source of the shot, then slowly returned to their previous tasks, the civilians now forming orderly queues as the soldiers resumed passing out rations. The death of one Sith was a small price to pay to help restore order to the city.

The crisis averted, Quinn resumed his restless pacing among the Watchers’ stations before pausing at one that was blacked out. He had tasked that particular one towards observing his wife as she went about her business in the city. With Darth Vowrawn setting her up to be the future Empress and her own desire to be out among the people and helping, he worried for her safety. However, once night had fallen and she had returned to their home, he had ordered the feed cut (but only after surveying the damage that had been done by the attack and reassuring himself that the droids were taking care of the repairs). He would not intrude on her privacy, though it was tempting at times. The possibility that some rival Lord might send an assassin was an ever-present concern, though if he was being truly honest with himself, it would have been merely an excuse to see her more. He knew she was quite capable of taking care of herself against such an attack. Even as he mulled over this, a familiar voice cut through the relative silence of the room.

“Major Quinn, why in the stars are you still here?!”

Turning to see the blonde-haired Sith striding into the room, he bowed deferentially, “Minister Beniko, there was much to do while—“

“You’ve been here for nearly three days!”

 _Three days?!_ Quinn reeled with the shock. He had been running constantly on adrenaline and stims (courtesy of the new implant) and not even realized how much time had actually passed. He should have gone home ages ago, but since walking into Intelligence, everything had just congealed into a constant state of crisis management where time held no meaning.

“I—“, he stammered as he forced himself through the realization, “I did not realize.”

“Go home”, she snapped sternly, pointing towards the door, “You look like death itself.” Her lips twitched in something resembling a smirk, “And I don’t want to be the one scraping you off the floor when you finally come off of those stims.”

Feeling a flush rise up his neck, Quinn dropped his gaze abashedly, “Of course, my Lor—Minister.” He still found her aversion to being called “Lord” odd, but acquiesced to her preference nonetheless. Sketching one last bow to her, he strode from the compound into the evening gloom.

\------------------

As night fell, a storm rolled in, rain tapping a steady rhythm against the plasteel windows, and Hyperia slid once more into an empty bed.

It was the third night she had been alone. Had there not been the Force bond between them, she might have been worried for Quinn. But the few times she had reached out to him through it, she found his mind running so many calculations and scenarios that it had nearly given her a headache. The scope of her husband’s intelligence and ability had always intrigued her. He had played his role so well in the service of Baras…seeming a mere lackey, serving at the whims of others. But beneath the subservient exterior lay a man far more capable than any she had ever known.

So, though it frustrated her to spend another night alone, she knew he was doing what he felt he must. It was little different than how she had buried herself in work in order to keep her mind occupied after he had been wounded in the attack .

She had just begun to doze off as a familiar presence lightly touched her mind, followed by a whisper of breath against her cheek.

“Miss me?”

The rich warmth of his voice was the most welcome thing in the galaxy to her. “Indeed I have…and here you are…” She rolled over to face him, smiling…but the smile rapidly faded as she took in his ragged appearance, trembling hands, and bloodshot eyes that seemed to never stop darting about. “Malavai…you look awful!”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “You Sith and your brutal honesty.” Sinking to one knee beside the bed, he took her hand in his, “I’m very sorry for being gone so long. I honestly lost all sense of time and…”

“Shhh….” Lifting his hand to her lips, she pressed a kiss to his fingers. “I know. Your dedication to the Empire is unparalleled. I’ve always known this.” The warmth fled from her voice, though faint amusement still sparkled in her eyes as she met his gaze sternly, “But if you go overboard with the stims again, I’m going to send you back to Doctor Verios to have that implant disabled.”

His cheeks colored as he averted his gaze from hers, head bowing until his forehead touched their conjoined hands, “I swear, it will never happen again.”

“Good.” Reaching out with her free hand, she ran her fingers slowly through his hair, her voice once more regaining its warmth. Lightly touching his mind, she felt a strong thread of apprehension entangled with the contentment. “Something is bothering you”, she murmured quietly.

Quinn breathed a deep sigh as he rose to his feet to pace the floor once…twice…before settling down at the foot of the bed. “We…I killed a Sith today.” He pushed the words out as though they pained him, even as he began stripping out of his clothing with a sort of desperation as if he could strip the memory away as well.

Rising to her elbows, Hyperia frowned, brows furrowed in faint confusion. “It would not be the first. What is wrong? Was it someone we knew?”

“No, just some minor Lord with a reputation for troublemaking who was trying to illegally confiscate rations.” Before Hyperia could respond, he turned and pinned her with a faintly pained look. “It wasn’t who it was…or even that it was a Sith. Or perhaps part of it was.” As he spoke, she slid down to sit at his side, one hand alighting gently upon his shoulder, feeling the conflict and disquiet swirling within him. “It was how _easy_ it was: a single shot from a sniper drone that he never even knew was there. And all I could think was how, at any time, someone could have done…or could do…the same to you.”

Hyperia slid her arms around his waist, resting her chin upon his shoulder. There were no words of comfort she could give him, no reassurances that she would somehow be able to escape such a fate. “Love, we have always walked the razor’s edge…it is what we dedicated ourselves to for most of our lives. I could die tomorrow. You could be killed next week. And it’s possible we can do nothing to change it. All we can do is to live each and every day as if it was our last.”

He turned to her, brows furrowed and she almost instantly felt the stab of guilt that rose within him. Pressing two fingers to his lips, she shook her head, ceasing the thought before he could voice it. “And no, that does not mean you get to beat yourself up for doing your duty to the Empire instead of being here with me. If something does happen to me, then that is what must sustain you.” A playful smile tugged at her lips as her hand trailed down his neck and over his chest to rest upon the faded circular blaster scar just below his ribcage. “Besides, we have both died once already. What is one more time?”

Taking her face in his hands, Quinn whispered, his voice rough with emotion, “Stars, I love you”, before sealing his lips to hers.

Hyperia melted into his touch as she slid her arms around him, pulling his body flush to hers. She never ceased to feel at home within his embrace. For so long, he had been her strength, her rock, when doubt and fear threatened to overwhelm her. It was always both a surprise and a comfort to find herself providing the same to him.

“As I love you”, she murmured as they parted breathlessly. Taking his cybernetic hand in hers, a wicked sparkle twinkling in her eyes, she nipped lightly at the metal fingers. “Now, I believe I mentioned something a few days ago about getting to know all of your wonderful enhancements a bit better?”

A faint shiver raced down Quinn’s spine, his voice husky with desire as he traced his fingertips over her lips, then down her neck, his touch feather-light against her skin. “With the sensitivity on its maximum setting, I can feel every pore, every tiny pulse of heartbeat, every reaction…”

Even as he spoke, Hyperia felt gooseflesh ripple over her skin in the wake of his touch, a breath hitching in her throat as his fingertips glided over her collarbone to slowly slide the strap of her chemise from her shoulder. “Everything, hm?” She could not hide the tremor in her voice as she slipped her arm free, baring one breast to his exploring fingertips.

“Everything”, he whispered as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this. I wanted to get the Quinncident out of the way on "Scarlet and Nightshade" since I was planning on including a few spoilery things here that referred back to it. Only one made it in, though (Quinn's scar) because I kept rewriting the second part, unable to decide if I was going to get into smut territory or not. I opted not because I'm trying to keep it to a minimum unless it's really plot-relevant (and this could have been if I really tried, I just couldn't get it to come out the way I wanted so I took the easy way out with the FTB...sorry!)  
> I have one more chapter planned out as of now for them before I plan on switching to a few alternate POVs of my other characters and our missing companions.  
> Thanks to everyone who's still hanging in with me for this ride!


	9. From the Ruins, Arise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Arcaan secures his hold over the galaxy, Vowrawn and Lana outline their plans for the Sith Empire's future.

A pervasive gloom hung over Dromund Kaas as Hyperia slowly awoke. Stretching languidly, she savored the delicious ache that permeated her entire body. Beside her, Quinn lay in a deep slumber, his own body recovering from the overload of stims and hours of vigorous love-making. A long contented sigh flowed from deep in her chest as she nestled against him, enjoying what little peace they could during this tumultuous time. However, a faint thread of melancholy intruded as the memory of a conversation had earlier that night resurfaced:

_“It is a pity that the Empire is in such disarray”, Quinn had murmured quietly as they both caught their breath, his gaze distant._

_Hyperia had only been able to manage a faint “Hmmm?” as the last ripples of pleasure still pulsed through her body._

_He had turned to her with a faint, gentle smile. “Before all of this began, I had hoped…that now would be the time we could finally start thinking of your legacy…and our family.”_

_She had felt a sharp stab of regret as she lifted a hand to gently nudge a sweat-damp lock of hair from his eyes. She could scarcely bear the deep sadness within their lapis depths. “I know. I too had hoped…but with Vowrawn pushing me to be Empress.” Sighing, she shook her head, feeling a faint flicker of anger for the other Sith and his manipulations. “Having a child...that would just add one more weapon my enemies could use against me.”_

_She had not voiced the rest of her thought: that she worried enough for his safety as well. Being the consort to one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy and the potential future Empress painted a very large and tempting target on Quinn’s back and she hated that she put him in danger just by loving him._

Shaking herself back to the present, she studied his slumbering features as though committing them to memory. Arcaan’s attack had taken its toll, but in a way, she found his injuries made him even more appealing. He had always been coldly handsome, but now that perfection had been marred and it lent him a sort of dangerous air. It had not diminished him, but carved him into something more than he had been.

As he slept, she traced her fingertips lightly over the swirling scar tissue that crawled over one cheek and along his jaw, following to his temple, where the small metal sliver of his implant was embedded…then over the stubble of regrowth around it, hair that had once been a raven’s wing black, now returning in stark white. He had already begun to show a light dusting of grey before the attack and Hyperia felt another faint stab of guilt. She had a tendency to forget that he was nearly a decade older than her, and this was just one more reminder that neither of them were getting any younger.

Any further thought was interrupted by the shrill sound of an alarm. Pushing herself upright, she searched for the source before realizing that it was the Imperial Emergency Alert Broadcast warning. Even as she pondered the implications, the holocomm at their bedside, along with every other one in the Empire, activated to display the wavering form of the Zakuulan Emperor, Arcaan.

Beside her, Quinn also roused, though still looking a bit worse for wear, having not yet fully recovered from the stim crash, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. On pure instinct and with a sinking feeling in her gut, Hyperia reached out to take his hand as Arcaan began to speak.

_“People of the galaxy, I speak to you as your new Emperor. Your leaders have surrendered to me…to the Eternal Empire of Zakuul. In three of your standard days, I will send a shuttle down to your respective capital cities. You will each dispatch two representatives to accept my terms of surrender. Any deviation or sign of resistance will be met with the utter annihilation of your capital planet.”_

As swiftly as it had appeared, the Emperor’s visage faded, leaving them both momentarily speechless before Hyperia broke it with a faint chuckle. “Well, it looks like we will be taking a little trip to into Wild Space, my dear.”

“You did mention a while back that we needed a vacation”, Quinn replied with a faint smirk, still appearing rather ragged, but with a new alertness in his eyes.

Before Hyperia could reply, the comm chirped again, though with the usual chime of an incoming call. “What now?”, she muttered testily as she gathered the covers over her chest for modesty before accepting the call.

“Good morning!” Vowrawn’s ever-cheerful voice piped up before trailing off as his form wavered into view, apparently just noticing her state of undress. “Oh…my apologies…did I interrupt?”

Hyperia shrugged, chuckling, “Nothing that our new ‘Emperor’ didn’t already. I assume you saw that?”

“I do believe the entire galaxy did, my dear. And that is why I called you. We need to discuss the whole ‘sending representatives’ thing.”

“Already decided”, Hyperia said, waving him off.

Vowrawn’s holo-form crossed his arms, fixing her with a glare not unlike that of a disapproving grandfather, “And I suppose you have ‘already decided’ that you and your dear husband will be ones to go? Before you answer that, come and meet me at Imperial Intelligence. The Minister and I have an idea. Oh, and bring the Major, of course.”

Before she could protest, the other Sith lord cut the connection, and she let out a disgruntled huff. “What is he up to?”

Quinn shrugged, already sliding from bed, “You know he’s trying to set you up as Empress…so he’s probably thought up some excuse as to why you shouldn’t go.”

“No doubt”, she grumbled, reluctantly rising as well. “I suppose it is worth at least hearing them out. Perhaps Lana has some sort of insidious plan to infiltrate this Zakuulan Empire or something.”

A little over an hour later, as Vowrawn outlined his plan within one of the secure rooms in Intelligence, Hyperia discovered that was exactly what they had decided. She couldn’t help but feel more than a little annoyed at this. _First Marr, now Vowrawn wants to leave me behind. I do wish they would stop trying to “protect” me…or whatever this is._

“Before the blockade went into full effect”, Lana was saying, “I managed to get into contact with my…associate in the SIS.”

Hyperia quirked a brow, an amused smile on her lips. “The same one we worked with on Ziost, I assume?”

“Theron Shan…yes. He has proven himself as being somewhat capable, so we have been comparing notes and decided if one or both of us could manage to find a way to travel to this new Empire, then we should take it. And…now the opportunity has presented itself.”

Hyperia leaned against a nearby console, arms crossed while Quinn stood silently nearby in parade rest, as still as a statue…though Hyperia knew his mind was no doubt far from silent or still as he considered their plan.

“You’re still not telling me why you two are better suited to this than we are”, she indicated Quinn with a sweep of her hand.

“That’s easy, my dear!” Vowrawn piped up from Lana’s side. “You are the Sith our illustrious new ‘Emperor’ forced to kneel to him in surrender…and he almost killed your dear Major. The moment you two show up, there’s a very good chance he will assume you’re there for revenge. At the very least, you will both be regarded with quite a bit of suspicion. While Minister Beniko and I are complete unknowns, as well as being quite innocuous in our own rights.”

Hyperia scowled, mulling this over for a moment before flicking her gaze to Quinn. He gave an expressive shrug, his tone faintly apologetic. “I cannot fault their logic, my Lord.”

Indeed, neither could she. Vowrawn and Beniko were probably two of the most inoffensive Sith in the entire Empire, yet two of the most powerful. If anyone could even hope to gain some sort of intel under the ruse of being simple envoys, it was them. With a resigned huff, Hyperia grumbled, “Very well. Be on your guard though, it could be some sort of trap.”

Vowrawn waved her off with a gesture. “I doubt it. They already have us right where they want us. Having two more hostages wouldn’t make much difference, I would think.”

“But in case we are…detained”, Lana began as she swept her gaze over them before fixing it squarely on Quinn. “While I am gone, Major Quinn, you will be my acting Minister of Intelligence.”

Hyperia was quite sure she had never seen her husband look so entirely gob-smacked, and she felt a surge of pride swell within her as he dropped to one knee.

“My Lo—Minister Beniko, this is…an honor. But…”

Before he could continue, Lana rolled her eyes, “Oh do get up. There’s no need for all of that. But, what?”

Rising, Quinn cocked his head curiously, brows furrowed in faint confusion. “But…shouldn’t another Sith be in charge of Sith Intelligence?”

“That was Darth Marr’s idea”, she replied with a shrug, “not mine. He is no longer with us and I think it’s time Intelligence is put back in Imperial hands again. And yours are, by far, the most capable I know of.”

“I am…overwhelmed. Thank you for your confidence. I will not let you down.”

Lana’s lips quirked in a faint half-smile. “I am quite certain that you won’t. For now, this is temporary. But if I do not return within a month’s time, the position will become permanent. I have already set it up to revert to you if that should happen and our people have been notified.”

“It’s nice to see that _someone_ is capable of persuading him to take a rank suited to his abilities”, Hyperia commented with playful sarcasm. “I’ve been trying to promote him for years, but he’d never take it.”

Quinn’s face flushed as he darted a sidelong look to her. “With all due respect, my Lord…you are my wife and it just wouldn’t have been…appropriate.”

Vowrawn released a soft huff. “Well, that won’t matter too terribly much once she becomes the Empress.”

“Stars above, Vowrawn, why are you still pursuing this?” Hyperia groaned. “It’s an empty title now.”

The elder Sith waggled a finger at her admonishingly. “Oh, far from it, my dear! Our people need to know that there’s someone who is looking out for their best interests. Galaxy knows our new ‘Emperor’ certainly won’t be.”

“That’s what the Dark Council is for!”

“Oh? You do know that your average Imperial doesn’t exactly have a sterling view of our leadership? Besides, have you seen us lately? We’re a bare shadow of what we once were.” Even as she opened her mouth to answer, he continued on. “And you’re the one who has been out there, showing yourself as the public face of the Sith…on top of that, one who actually gives a damn about her people. I’d be willing to bet the all credits in the former Emperor’s treasury that most people already see you as their Empress, they just haven’t said it.”

Hyperia sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her fingers. As her mind began to mull over all of the potential difficulties and stress that accepting would raise, she felt a gentle surge of pride and acceptance flow through her bond with Quinn. Canting a glance to him, he stood as stoic and silent as he had before, with only the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips, but the feeling was as though he had enfolded her in a warm embrace.

She was honestly not sure whether to be comforted or annoyed at his support…had he disapproved, she would have been more comfortable turning Vowrawn down. Finally, she tossed her hands in the air in mock frustration and huffed, “Fine! Though you would think there would be ten dozen Sith Lords all scrambling for the honor…”

“There probably are”, Vowrawn said with a faint laugh, “but none as qualified as the former Emperor’s Wrath.”

Hyperia rolled her eyes. “Or they realize what a thankless job it is right now.”

“That is also entirely possible, of course. But that will make it seem even more impressive when you step up to the challenge”, Vowrawn declared victoriously.

Turning her back to them, Hyperia leaned against a nearby console, staring at the readouts the scrolled by on the screen before her without really seeing them. She felt trapped…yet, at the same time, liberated. Was this not what every Sith Lord aspired to? Over her years of serving Baras and even after his death, she had worked hard to build up her power base. Becoming the Emperor’s Wrath had seemed a dream come true…one that had eventually turned into a nightmare after the Emperor turned on His own people, annihilating an entire Imperial planet with barely a thought. She did not have His vast power nor His sadistic cunning. He had been almost a god to the Empire and she was but a slightly-more-powerful-than-ordinary Sith.

“I can’t be what they expect…I’m not Him.”

She didn’t even realize she had spoken the words aloud until she felt a hand upon her shoulder and turned to see her husband standing there, looking down upon her with love and confidence. “No, but you can show them something new: a leader who sees her people as more than just tools to be used and discarded at a whim. The Empire has taken a blow from all of this. You can help it recover.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, a faint sly smile curving her lips. “Very well. I hope you won’t mind being referred to as ‘The Imperial Consort’.”

Quinn released a quiet chuckle, “It is not the worst thing I have been called. And it would be a great honor to be your Consort, my Empress.”

Hyperia groaned as he dipped into a deep bow and Vowrawn clapped his hands gleefully. “Marvelous! Now, I was thinking we could announce it at our big send-off to Zakuul. You make a rousing speech about your faith in us and how the Empire’s not truly defeated…etc, etc. Get everyone all stirred up and feeling patriotic, then declare yourself Empress. By that moment, they’ll be ready to welcome you with open arms.”

“Oh Vowrawn, what am I going to do without you?” Hyperia replied, her words laced with humor, but the question in earnest.

“You’ll manage, my dear”, he replied with an idle wave of his hand. “Minister Lorman will be overseeing things while I’m gone. Unlike Lana, I’m not expecting to make this little excursion to Wild Space a lengthy stay. But, if anything should happen to me, I will leave you with a list of potential successors for my seat on the Dark Council. Feel free to choose whoever you like. They’re all capable.”

“Three days”, Hyperia murmured quietly, feeling her stomach clench in anticipation and dread. “Three days until everything changes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I actually got this 99% written, then put it aside to try to get closer to finishing "Scarlet and Nightshade". I kind of hit a writer's block there, so I figured I'd go ahead and put the finishing touches on this one and send it out.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still hanging on...both here and there. I'm loving all the comments that you all are leaving for me. They really help keep me inspired.


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